


The Price of Submission

by orphan_account



Series: All Shall Be Well [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, HAPPY STABLE TRIAD RELATIONSHIP, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tom/OMC, Verbal Abuse, master!Chris, slave!Tom, tom/ofc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 36
Words: 100,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a severe car accident, Chris is left with limited mobility and a wrecked car. His insurance company is doing all that it can to figure out what happened, and as payment they give him Slave IC-782 to help him in any way he needs. </p><p>Tom, because of choices he made in his young life, has been a slave for a little more than ten years. Traded and passed along from master to master, he lands in the hands of one Chris Hemsworth. He has no idea what to expect, but is prepared to submit to his master's desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a fill for norsekink. Here's the prompt:
> 
> Somebody gives Chris a gift (really, anybody; Elsa, maybe?), which is a sex slave. Tom isn't a happy slave (abused in the past), but, thankfully, Chris turns out to be nothing like Tom's previous master(s). 
> 
> Initial dub-con is okay though.
> 
> \+ world building.
> 
> . . . slavery is a more or less normal thing in this AU (maybe it's mostly considered as luxury, but not necessarily), and it's not a BDSM type of slavery, it's a real one.
> 
> I'm doing my best to fill this in. This story is more of a stress reliever for me as well as to practice my writing skills. Also, the tenses and POVs will be switching every chapter. You'll see when we get there.
> 
> I hope you like it and please kuddo, comment, whatever. This is my first fic and I hope you all enjoy it.

_Dear Mr. Hemsworth,_

_In light of your recent accident, please accept Slave IC-782 as a gift free of payment. We are sorry for the inconvenience this matter may have caused, but rest assured we are doing everything we can to solve the problem at hand. We will notify you in a few days of any changes or any further developments._

_Signed, Paul Schmidt of Kershaw Insurance Company_

The letter is not what Chris has expected. He’s hoping for better news in the lines of ‘ _this is the sum of money you are getting for your injury.’_ They are making headway—that is good news. That means he should have some money to put back in his pocket. His medical expenses aren’t cheap, and he can’t exactly afford to take off any more time from work. He supposes that the insurance company thought that having a slave would make things easier for him around the house, but it only makes him worry. He has have to feed and house it, probably clothe it if it doesn’t have anything with it. Not to mention medical expenses if the thing is injured. Oh, what is Elsa going to think when she comes home?

The slave is standing out on the front porch with his curly, blond head ducked down and his hands folded before him. There is a black cuff on his right wrist and a small black tattoo peeking out from under the collar from his shirt. The clothes he wears are casual but clean and seemingly new. He has a small bag with him that sits by his feet but nothing else. He was dropped off fifteen minutes ago while Chris reads the letter he came with in the kitchen. He prefers keeping the weight off his broken leg as much as possible. He doubts that the slave will move without him ordering to do so.

He stretches his arm out for his crutches and lifts himself up onto his feet and hobbles to the front door. He opens it to see the slave again. The slave doesn’t even move.

“Well,” Chris says, “you better get in here before the neighbours start getting any ideas.”

The slave nods, says nothing, picks up his bag, and steps into the house. Chris closes the door as the slave moves off to the side near the front closet. He stays there.

If Chris were less agitated, he would’ve done something about the slave right there and then. But the pain meds he’s on for the broken leg, stiff muscles, fractured rib, and mild concussion makes him drowsy and hard for him to focus for longer than thirty seconds. Right now there is nothing more that Chris wants than to flop down on the couch in the living room and take a nap. He’s too tired and too frustrated to be dealing with a slave.

“Just do whatever you want for now,” Chris says. “I’m just going to sit down in the living room for a while. Holler if you need anything.” He turns and limps away into the living room. He sits down, set the crutches on the floor, and lifts his leg onto the couch. Once he is as comfortable as can be, he turns on the TV, set it to a sports channel, and turns down the volume until it’s sort of like white noise that lulls him into an easy sleep.

He wakes up three hours later when the front door opens and closes. Elsa is home.

“Oh my,” he hears her say. “Chris? Can you come here?”

Chris sits up and manoeuvres himself to the kitchen. The slave hasn’t moved at all. He is still standing by the closet like before, head down, hands folded. He picks up the letter from where it rests on the counter and passes it off to his wife.

“From the insurance,” Chris says. “They probably think I could use him or something until I get back on my feet.”

Elsa, with a young baby girl named India perched on her hip, reads the letter quickly and passes it back. “A gift and free of charge. Have they said anything else about the car or what the sum is?”

Chris shakes his head and sits down at the kitchen table. Elsa passes off India to him so that she can set her stuff down. “Not yet. I suspect that they’ll get back in another day or two. It shouldn’t be long yet.”

“And from work? Did they say anything about paid leave?”

“Well, I’m using the days they gave me. That’s about two weeks before I have to return.”

Elsa sighs. “Do they not understand that you were in a serious, nearly fatal car crash?”

“Yeah, and this is my only second year on the job. Sure, they care enough to give some paid time off, but I still have to follow all their rules.”

She walks up to him and bends a little to cup his face between her hands. She kisses him on the lips softly. “Well, I’m just glad you’re alive and with us here than in the hospital. Soon this will be behind us and you’ll be back on your feet.”

“Yes, but until then what should we do with him?” He looks at the slave briefly, not having moved in the past three hours which strikes Chris as strange and a little bit curious.

Elsa shrugs and goes to get a drink from the fridge. “I suppose we could just keep him for a while until we actually figure it out. I’m sure you could use some help around the house right now. Who knows? Maybe he’ll make your life a little bit easier.”

“I don’t really need any help,” Chris says, looking down at India as she chews on her first and grins up at him. “I’ve been managing on my own quite well.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted this time with India?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think you could use an extra pair of hands if you plan on taking care of her during the day.”

“Maybe, but—”

“No,” she says and turns to the slave. “Have you ever looked after small children before?”

The slave looks up and licks his lips before responding quietly. “Yes, Mistress, I have.”

Elsa turns back with a smile on her face. “See? Problem solved.”

Elsa deals with the slave, showing him around the house quickly and where he will be sleeping. Chris spends his time with India, cooing at her and playing with her while Elsa begins to make dinner.

The slave is very quiet and isn’t asked to do much that night. Chris assumes because it’s the first night and everyone is just a little uneasy about the situation. But he can’t help but notice the way the slave carries himself. Chris has seen and met other slaves before. Most he knows act like normal people except for the fact that they call someone ‘master’ or ‘mistress’ or some other formal title and that they have a cuff and a tattoo. But not all slaves are treated well and given an opportunity to better themselves and pay for their debts to society.

The curly, blond haired slave looks thin and a little sickly. There is a fading bruise on his cheek and a ring of bruises on his free wrist whenever the sleeve of his shirt rides up. He also has a faint limp. Obviously he hasn’t been well treated before, which would explain the shy and submissive behaviour.

He has to be ordered to sit and to eat when dinner is ready. He thanks both Elsa and Chris, even though Chris had nothing to do with dinner tonight. He sits on the edge of his seat, eating his meal in small bites and as quietly as possible. Chris is irritated by the slave’s behaviour and the constant itchiness of his broken leg beneath the cast. It isn’t that he dislikes the slave. He never judges anyone based on first meetings, but the slave is a mystery he has to figure out. He wants to know just who this person is that is going to be sleeping under the same roof as his family.

Somehow he has a feeling that is going to be an impossible task to accomplish. The next two weeks are going to be interesting.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Tom's life is suddenly brought to a halt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got nothing much to say other than this chapter is in Tom's POV and it's written in the past tense. I don't know why I've decided to write the chapters this way. It just felt right.
> 
> Also thanks for the support so far.

Tom was young. He made mistakes. He was often too kind and too trusting, allowing the wrong people to take advantage of him. When he was in his second year of university, he got tangled up with the wrong people, conned and scammed and ending up owing someone money. Try as he might he couldn’t get himself out of it and didn’t want to involve his family in his messy business.

That might’ve been his first mistake.

When he couldn’t come up with the money, the people decided to take something else to make up for it. They found someone who paid off Tom’s debts, and in exchange Tom was sent to center for fitting and training. He’d been sold.

Of course he protested at first. He said that this was illegal, that this could only happen if there was an official report of arrest from the police.

Apparently they’d already had that taken care of. No questions were going to be asked. No one was going to wonder what happened to one Thomas Hiddleston.

The center was guarded, and the rooms the slaves were given were locked at night. The workers here acted more like prison guards, for that’s what the center was: a prison. The routines were strict, and punishments were doled out if they weren’t followed to the letter. Tom learned quickly.

He received the standard tattoo in the first few hours of his stay there. It was placed delicately along his collarbone in thin black ink. IC-782.

He was taught to be respectful, to do things when asked, to obey his master’s or mistress’s commands, to be seen rather than heard.

“Head down. Hands folded,” they said. “This is the standard resting position. It’s to show respect. Respect your masters and you will be treated well. It will be your own fault if harm comes to you.”

Everyday these lessons were drilled into his head until it was a mantra he repeated in his head before lights out.

After three weeks of this monotonous routine of obeying commands and learning the slang of his new career, the formal procedure was conducted. They took samples of his DNA and fingerprints. They recorded his date of birth, his physical traits, and health record history. They took a picture of him, just a simple headshot, and put his record up for sale.

It was another two weeks before someone put a bid on him. The day before he left they slapped a black transmitter cuff on his wrist to keep track of his whereabouts. It was locked onto his wrist.

Tom’s first master was a kind man by the name of Kenneth Branagh. He was a well-known businessman in London and flew around the world for extended trips with fellow associates. He desired nothing more than a personal assistant, someone to get the dry cleaning, help him stick to his schedule, clean up his flat, and carry things to and from work on occasion. If the business trips lasted more than four days, Tom was taken with him. Of course he wasn’t allowed to travel first class. Slaves did not have that privilege, but it was nice to get out of the country and see parts of the world he would no longer be able to on his own.

It was different, but no less exciting. Sure, he had the black transmitter cuff on his wrist and a tattoo on his collarbone, but he felt mostly normal. He was just another PA with only more restrictions.

He got to see a lot of great cities and go a lot of great countries. They frequently visited New York City, and Tom was allowed to see the sites on his own when his master was stuck in long, boring business meetings. He even got to see a show on Broadway. Would’ve he been able to do that if he were a free man? Probably not. He enjoyed himself immensely.

Toyko. Toronto. Boston. Paris. Berlin. These were just a few of the cities Tom visited. It was exciting, and he never got bored of the frequent plane trips.

Although he did not own anything—everything he had was technically Ken’s—Ken provided for him. He wanted to see Tom happy and comfortable. Tom had nice clothes, casual and fancy. He had an allowance to purchase something he liked. Books, renting movies, little trinkets he found amusing. It was nice.

On the days when the trips were short and Tom wasn’t needed to go along, he had the flat to himself. He liked to sleep in, perhaps go for a run, watch a little TV, read for a bit, and maybe meet up with his mother. He was glad that he was still within driving distance to his home. It made the transition from free man to slave that much easier. Plus his mother had nearly had a heart attack when she’d heard what had happened to him. It was easier on the both of them. But now that Tom thinks back on it, perhaps it would’ve been better if he’d left England altogether. He simply wasn’t ready for the separation afterwards.

His life with Ken—rarely did he require Tom to call him ‘master’—was nothing out of ordinary. He was okay with it. They were friends. They had inside jokes. There was nothing awkward about the relationship the two had. Tom was just another employee in his service.

For two years Tom lived with Ken. He learned a lot from him and treasured every moment of his experience with him. But nothing was ever for certain in a slave’s life. Everything was fleeting, temporary.

One of Ken’s Tokyo contacts, a woman by the name of Mika Hori, was closing a deal with Ken after a long week of discussions. Tom waited back at the apartment as he always did when Ken was in a long meeting. He wasn’t much use in meetings so he always stayed back.

When Ken returned in the late afternoon, Tom knew that something was wrong. Ken seemed worn out, stressed. He took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and then just stood in the middle of the room, not looking at anything.

“Something wrong?” Tom asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to plant them on the floor.

“Just a business deal,” Ken assured him with light smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

A moment later.

“Do you remember meeting Mika Hori?” Ken asked. “She’s one of my Japanese associates. You might’ve met her once or twice when we went out for dinner.”

“Yes, I think I remember. What does she have to do about this?”

“Well, in order to close this deal with her, she has one condition to be met. A really, rather important condition.”

Ken was leading up to something. Something big.

“And what is it?”

Ken sat down on the other bed across from Tom. “Tom,” he said. “The condition is you. Miss Hori seems rather very taken with you and would like me to transfer your bill of sale to her. She would become—”

“Become my new . . . mistress.”

“Yes. But it’s up to you. I’m not making the decision because it’s not my life that’s being bartered. It’s up to you.”

Tom nodded and folded his hands in his lap. “Ken, how important is this deal to you and the company?” Ken didn’t say anything. The answer must’ve been ‘really important.’

“I won’t hold this against you, Tom,” Ken said. “It won’t make me think any less of you if you choose to stay with me.”

But Tom knew he couldn’t do that. He knew how important this deal in Japan was to Ken. He talked about it constantly. It made him worry and lose sleep at night. Tom knew it was a big deal to Ken and to the company and to the employees under Ken’s management. And all of this responsibility was placed squarely on Tom’s shoulders to make the right choice.

“You don’t have to make the decision if you don’t want to,” Ken said. “Miss Hori gave me no time constraint. You can sleep on it; take a few days to think about it.”

Tom nodded and stood up. “I’m—I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Yes, of course. Do whatever you want. I—I’ll just be staying here for the night.”

Tom picked up his jacket, secured his shoes, and stepped out of the hotel room to go for a long walk. Deep down he knew this type of thing would happen. He wouldn’t stay with Ken forever, but he liked to think that he could.

Saying yes to the deal would mean good things for Ken and anyone working for him. But that meant Tom would no longer be living in London more than half the time. He wouldn’t be allowed to see his mother or his sisters on occasion. He would be living in a completely different country under the hand of a new Mistress. But he couldn’t let his own selfish desires sway his decision.

By the time Tom returned to the hotel, he had come to a conclusion. “Yes,” he said to Ken. “I’ll go with Miss Hori.”

Ken smiled, but it wasn’t a happy one. It was more of a gesture that he was acknowledging the inner turmoil Tom must’ve gone through and a simple thank you.

The deal was closed the next day. Tom had a small bag with him. It had a few changes of clothes and a few books. Everything else was still in London. Tom didn’t know what would become of it, whether Ken would ship it to him or sell it all. He didn’t care all that much, but there was one thing that had to happen before Tom left.

“Hello?”

Tom cradled the phone close to his ear. “Mum?”

“Oh, Tom. It’s so good to hear from you.”

“Yeah, it’s good to hear you too, mum.” He took in a deep breath, preparing to just get it over with. “Listen, mum. I won’t be coming back with Ken this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to stay here in Japan. I—I won’t be coming back home. You know what this means, right, mum?”

His mother was silent for a time. “I know. I know, Tom.”

“Give my love to Emma and Sarah. And dad, if you see him.”

“Yes, darling. I will. I love you so very much.”

“I love you, too, mum.”

They said their goodbyes, and Tom set down the phone, putting his head in his hands immediately afterwards. After he composed himself, he handed Ken his phone and followed him to the car outside and then to where the transfer would be conducted.

Mika Hori was a small woman who was probably closer to Ken’s age. She was not married and had no immediate family in the vicinity. Ken assured Tom that she would take care of him. He’d already asked her, and she promised him that Tom would be well looked after.

At the transfer, Miss Hori and Ken finalized their deal. Signing papers and shaking hands before Tom was given Miss Hori. Ken promised to send her Tom’s papers as soon as he got home. He briefly hugged Tom before he left, telling him to look after himself. Tom promised and watched him walk away.

Mistress Hori stood in front of him. Her eyes drifted over his body. “Hello, Tom,” she said, accented voice sounding peculiar to his ears.

“Mistress Hori,” he said.

“Come. Follow me. I will show you to your new home.”

Tom followed Mistress Hori. He reminded himself to just breathe and that everything would be fine.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom has an accident in the kitchen.

Chris gets up the next morning with Elsa to see her off. Usually she’ll take India with her on her way to work to either spend the day with her or drop her off at day care. But now that Chris is going to be home for the next two weeks he’s looking forward to looking after his young daughter. He feels like he’s already missing out on her life.

The surprising thing is that the slave is already waiting in the kitchen. He assumes the original position of folded hands and bowed head. He says nothing, waiting for an order, and Chris doesn’t know what to say or do. He never deals with slaves in his line of work. He would see them passing by on the street perhaps, but those are easily forgettable, fleeting moments. It probably shows in how he acts around the blond slave in his kitchen. Elsa, on the other hand, deals with slaves fairly regularly.

She works at a hotel behind the front desk. The hours are quite odd sometimes, but she enjoys it. Some clients come in with slaves. There are certain precautions to be taken when slaves are on the premises. Liabilities and what not. She’s used to working with and around slaves.

Chris, on the other hand, works in micro financing. That already means he’s working with free people. Plus it’s a desk job. He only deals with co-workers, all of whom are free people.

When Elsa leaves and India is playing on the carpet in front of the TV, Chris looks to the slave who has no yet eaten or moved from where he stands.

Chris twists in his seat on the couch and says, “Hey.” He doesn’t know the slave’s name. He should probably ask. “Hey you.”

The slave looks up but does not move.

“What’s, uh, what’s your name?”

And the slave answers like he memorized something out of a handbook. “A slave does not have a name. He is content with whatever his master chooses to call him by.”

Chris sighs. “Yeah, but I’m sure you had a name before all of . . . this. And I’m no good at naming things. It’d make it easier and a lot less awkward if I could just get your, you know, actual name.”

The slave is quiet for a few moments. He says, “My name is Tom,” quietly and sounding quite unsure of himself, but at least he has a name.

“Well, Tom, have you eaten yet this morning?”

He shakes his head.

“Then go get some food from the kitchen, all right?”

Tom nods and goes into the kitchen.

Chris looks down at India. She’s playing with a small plushie, chewing on the dog’s head and turning it into a soggy mess. She’s teething, so anything she can get her hands on goes straight into her mouth.

He looks over his shoulder into the kitchen. Tom is eating at least, but he hasn’t taken a seat. He’s leaning against the counter, but he’s eating. Does he have to be ordered to do everything? Somehow Chris doubts that. He’s seen other slaves doing things without being ordered to, sitting down without getting permission, eating without being ordered to. But those slaves had been less skittish than Tom, less afraid. Perhaps Tom has been punished for something like sitting down without permission. Better safe than sorry, but it’s something else that Chris has to consider when asking Tom to do something.

The day progresses slowly. India is fed. Chris takes a nap when the painkillers make him drowsy as Tom watches over his daughter. It’s an odd routine that somehow works without any major hang ups. Tom certainly knows his way around children, which is handy. Going up and down those stairs to change India and set her down for a nap would be difficult in Chris’s condition.

Chris wakes groggy on the couch. The TV is turned onto some day time drama he can’t be bothered to watch. He gently swings his legs onto the floor and rubs his eyes, leaning back into the couch and yawning. When his vision focuses, he notices Tom standing against the staircase.

“You know you can sit wherever, right?” Chris says. “Tom?”

“Master has not permitted me to sit down,” he says as he’s probably trained to do.

“Okay, I think we need to set down some ground rules, okay?” Chris moves over to one end of the couch and pats a cushion beside him. “Come here.” Tom obeys and sits on the edge of the cushion, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “First of all, you don’t need my permission to sit down or get something to eat or drink. That’s just being human. No one needs permission for stuff like this. And I’m not exactly comfortable with you calling me ‘master.’ You can drop all the fancy titles and what not. Chris is fine.”

“But I’m—I’m not—” He takes a deep breath and looks to Chris like he needs something.

“What is it, Tom?” he asks gently.

“There are rules I have to follow. They said this is how it has to be done. I can’t call you by your name. I just can’t. I—”

“Hey, calm down now.”

Tom shuts his mouth and turns his head away. Chris sees that this whole matter is making him anxious. Is it such a big deal to him that he has to call Chris ‘master’? Is it one of those things that was drilled into Tom’s mind, something he has to do no matter what?

“If it really bothers you, you can just call me ‘sir’ or something easy like that. There’s no need to worry about this, all right?”

Tom swallows and manages a shaky nod. “Thank you, sir.”

Chris smiles and claps Tom on the shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way he stiffens, but he doesn’t say anything of it. He’s uncomfortable enough as it is. Better let him settle in completely before Chris’s curiosity gets the better of him.

* * *

 

Later that night, Chris is in bed with Elsa. They stay on their separate sides of the bed. Chris is too sore for anything than light hugs yet. Needless to say he misses the intimacy.

“His name is Tom,” he says quietly.

Elsa rolls onto her side to face him, eyes still closed, and murmurs a sleepy, “Mm?”

“I asked him for his name today and he said it was Tom.”

“That’s nice.”

He reaches for her hand under the blankets and finds it. Soft and slender. “What are we going to do about him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean after all this? When I get my cast off and go back to work full time, I won’t need his help anymore.”

“We could always keep him around to look after India. It’d be so much easier to have her at home and looked after.” She shifts in the bed, rolling onto her back. “We don’t have to think about this now, Chris. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Chris tries to sleep, but he can’t seem to get rid of the image of how scared and anxious Tom looked when Chris told him not to call him ‘master.’

* * *

The insurance company has finally made headway in Chris’s accident. They say he should receive a claim within the next two days, which is a huge load off of his mind. He asks them about Slave IC-782, or Tom, and what the conditions are about him. They reply and say it can either be a temporary or permanent situation. If, after Chris is on his own two feet, he wants to keep Tom, he can file some claims for ownership that should take about two weeks to complete. If he doesn’t want to keep Tom, Slave IC-782 will simply be picked up by Kershaw Insurance with no hard feelings. At the moment, Chris knows that he will be sending Tom back. They won’t need him here after Chris goes back to work. He just doesn’t see it working.

By the fifth day with Tom living in their house, Chris is starting to get used to his constant presence. He seems a little more relaxed than before, which is nice. That means he’s settling in. He sits down when eating, no longer needing to be ordered to do that. He still sits on the edge of his seat like he’s expecting it to be taken away from him, but it’s progress.

On the sixth day there is a minor incident.

A glass breaks in the kitchen. Chris knows Tom is in there and get his crutches to go and investigate. Tom is on his hands and knees when Chris finds him.

“Tom?” he says. “Is everything all right?”

Tom looks up and he looks like he’s about to start crying. “I-I-I didn’t mean t-to,” he stammers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir. It was an accident. I’ll just—” He begins to try and corral the pieces of glass into a pile with his hands.

“Whoa. Hold on there.” Chris limps to the closet and pulls out a broom and dust pan. “Don’t want to get yourself cut now.”

Tom takes the items and sweeps up the broken glass to dump it all in the trashcan under the sink. He puts away the broom and the dustpan and returns to kneeling on the kitchen floor. His head is down. He’s waiting for something.

“Uh, Tom?” Chris asks. “What are you doing?”

Tom raises his head a little. “I-I broke your glass, sir. I am yours to punish.”

“Punish? Tom, I’m not going to punish you for breaking a glass. It was an accident. I’ve broken my fair share of dishes as well. It’s nothing to cry over.”

Tom raises his head even more. Chris doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what he sees in Chris’s facial expression, but there are suddenly hands on his hips. They tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, starting to pull them down. By the time Chris realizes what Tom is after, he feels sick.

“Tom. Tom, stop it.” He pushes Tom away with one hand while using the other to balance on his crutches. “Stop it.”

Tom’s hands fall away to his sides. He looks away, colour spotting his cheeks.

“Tom, do you mind telling me what that was?”

“I just thought that—that is to say that I thought you might . . .” Tom swallows and goes quiet. He says no more.

“Tom, are you all right?” Chris knows he isn’t all right. Tom looks like he wants to disappear into the floor. “Tom, get up.” He does as he’s told. Chris sets a hand on his shoulder and says, “I don’t know what’s happened to you in the past, but I want you to know that you don’t have to afraid of me. You aren’t going to be punished. I am not expecting anything from you except to help me with India.” After he adds, “You’re safe here.”

Tom pulls away from Chris and turns his back on him. “Am I allowed to go for a walk, sir?”

“Yes, of course. You can do whatever you want.”

Tom nods and goes to put on his shoes before stepping out of the house.

Chris goes back to the couch. India is down for her nap, so there’s not much for him to do other than sit here and watch some mindless TV for the next couple of hours. Thankfully Elsa has the morning shift, so she’ll be home some time at three.

No matter how much he tries, Chris can’t get the image of Tom and the feeling of his frantic tugging out of his mind. Abuse among slaves is, sadly, not uncommon. Some end up with the wrong people and end up with bruises and possible broken bones. It ends up on the news sometimes if it’s a big enough deal. Some slaves end up in whore houses, selling themselves on the street to meet their masters’ quota. It’s always sad to see the transformation of perfectly normal people to common whores on the street. Chris never likes hearing about those stories. It makes him angry.

Slavery was the solution to an overcrowding prison and for people who just didn’t get it. It began back in the seventies as a deterrent to crime. Anyone found guilty of the charges they were arrested for they were sent off to receive their marks and orders. Only those found guilty of murder or rape were put into prison. They needed more supervision than lower risk criminals.

All slaves have a minimum number of years of service they must complete before any release forms can be filed. It’s to ensure that the criminals have truly been reformed before they are released from service. It’s a global system that has several headquarters all over the world. Slaves can be bought in one country and sent to another. Companies buy some and rent them out to those who need them at a reasonable price. Those who can afford to buy a slave and house them keep them as a housekeeper, a pet, or a personal servant. There are no laws as to what a master or mistress can or cannot do to their slave. If the slave is injured, it’s because they did not listen, and that’s something that Chris has a problem with.

He thinks about the possible situations Tom has been in. He’s probably served someone sexually before. He’s probably been punished before, probably even over simple matters like a broken glass. Well if Chris can do anything to help Tom, he can treat him like an equal. It may not be much, but it’ll provide Tom with a sense of security that should make it easier for him to relax and be able to live here.

Elsa makes it home just after three thirty. She comes into the living room before heading upstairs to change. “Chris, why is Tom sitting on the porch outside?”

Chris looks away from India. “Is he just sitting out there?”

She nods. “What is he doing out there?”

“He wanted to go for a walk, so I said yes, but I guess he just wanted to be by himself for a while.”

“As long as he’s okay, that’s fine. I mean, he looked a little upset when I came in.”

“Yeah, um, about that. I think we need to talk about Tom, about what we’re going to do with him. And-and there’s some other stuff I think we need to talk about as well.”

“What do you mean, Chris?”

Chris waves her off. “Go ahead and change. I’ll explain later.”

Elsa nods and disappears upstairs. In that time Tom comes back into the house. He gets himself a drink of water and something to eat. He doesn’t move into the living room but stays in the kitchen.

Elsa returns, and Chris gets up on his feet. “Tom,” he says. “Can you look after India for a moment?”

“Yes, sir.” He steps into the living room and takes a seat on the floor near India.

Chris and Elsa head upstairs to their bedroom to have a chat in private. When the door is closed, Elsa stands before Chris. “All right,” she says. “What did you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to talk about Tom. I have to go back to work after next week. What are we going to do with him?”

“Are you that eager to get rid of him?” Elsa asks. “Does he bother you in some way?”

“I just—” He runs his hands through his hair. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. He doesn’t even know why exactly he asked Elsa to talk about Tom. “I don’t know exactly what to do with him. The insurance company said we could give him back after we’re done or file for claims of ownership if we want.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I just don’t know what to do with him.”

Elsa sinks down onto the bed beside him. “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, Chris. What’s actually bothering you?” Her hands come to his face, turning it so that he faces her more or less directly.

“Tom dropped a glass today in the kitchen. And, um, he was quite upset about it. Once we got it cleaned up, he was expecting to be punished for what he’d done.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, of course I told him that it was just an accident and that I wasn’t going to punish him over for breaking a simple glass.” Elsa’s hand runs up and down his back, scratching lightly. “But then after I said that . . . I don’t know what he was expecting from me, if maybe he thought he somehow still owed me. So he, um, well . . . he tried to suck me off.” Elsa’s hand stills. “Of course I pushed him off. Like, I didn’t know what to say or how to act after that, but just the look I got from him . . . it seemed like this was something normal to him. And I guess it just sort of clicked, you know? All the type of things that can happen to slaves for one insignificant screw up. It’s . . . It’s messed up.” He drops his head into his hands, scrubbing at his face.

“Sweetie, is this about Liam?” Elsa asks softly.

“You know what he’s like,” Chris replies quietly. “You know how he acts. What if he gets into trouble while he’s out there and gets hurt? He doesn’t have anyone to look after him anymore. What if he ends up like Tom? Broken and used?”

“Is that what’s upsetting you?”

“My parents called yesterday. They haven’t heard from him in two months. They probably won’t hear from him again in another ten years. They’re worried sick about him and there’s nothing anyone can do because he’s a fucking slave now.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Just having Tom living here I guess made it click that this is Liam’s life now. That’s all, I guess.” He drops his hands into his lap, suddenly feeling worn out.

Elsa holds his hands. He leans into her. “I know this must be difficult for you and your family, but I think you and I both know that Liam can take care of himself especially since he had you and Luke as brothers.”

Chris chuckles, but it doesn’t last long. Elsa holds him steady for a few minutes before saying, “How about you take a nap before dinner, all right? I’ll call you went it’s ready.”

Chris nods. He moves back onto the bed while Elsa shuts the blinds and tucks the covers around him. She leaves the room quietly and shuts the door, leaving Chris to toss and turn to find a comfortable spot on his back.

He still doesn’t have an answer about Tom.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom learns that not all owners are alike and that some have different tastes than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support so far! I've got big plans for Tom in future chapters to come, so please continue to give me support and your comments. The comments always help me figure out what I'm doing. 
> 
> Once again, thank you!

Mistress Hori’s flat was large and spacious. It was on the twentieth floor in a high rise apartment building more or less in the heart of Tokyo. The windows were from floor to ceiling, allowing lots of natural light in. There was also a balcony, so that anyone could look out over the city. The room was an interesting mix of modern and traditional furniture. It all worked together. Nothing clashed, at least not to Tom it didn’t.

The living room and kitchenette were part of the same large room. There was a large dining room separated from the living room by a set of nearly transparent sliding doors. On the other side of the room down the hallway were two bedrooms, a large bathroom, and an office. Mistress Hori showed him around, explaining what rooms he would be staying in and what rooms would be out of bounds.

“This will be your bedroom,” she said.

It was a large bedroom, something he wasn’t expecting. The bed was large and high off the ground. There was a lot of space for him to move around with. There was a desk he could sit at, a TV he could watch anything from, and a large empty closet to clothes he didn’t have. There was also a vanity table with a mirror and another full length, three sided mirror in the corner. Through another door was the large bathroom that could accommodate anyone of any size.

“The dining room is off limits unless I have a dinner party,” Mistress Hori said.

“What am I required to do, Mistress?” Tom asked.

“For tonight you may rest. Tomorrow I will give you your duties. One of my maids will come in tonight and cook for you. I will see you tomorrow, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Mistress, and thank you.”

“Goodnight, Tom.” She left him alone in the large, empty flat.

He threw his bag down in his bedroom and unzipped it. He had so little with him. He was only meant to take a few days’ worth of clothes with him on this trip. Now he was living here for the foreseeable future. But he had to remind himself that this was his life now. Not every owner would be as kind as Ken. Not every owner would see Tom as a person instead of an object.

The maid entered the flat around five. She was a small thing with neat hair and a bright smile. She didn’t speak much English, and what words she did know where heavily accented. Tom smiled and thanked her, politely staying out of her way while she moved about in the kitchenette. She served him his food while he fooled around with the TV and DVD collection. He couldn’t watch TV since it was all in Japanese, and he craved something familiar so that he could just forget about this new situation for a bit. The DVD collection was extensive, a mix of both Japanese and English movies. The entire _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy was sitting there. That would suit for tonight.

He ate an assorted mix of rice and stir-fry while Frodo and Sam started their trek to Rivendell. The maid busied herself around the flat, cleaning the kitchen and setting everything up for the night. After watching Boromir die and the hobbits make it safely across the river, the maid left the flat.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, so with nothing else to do Tom started and finished the second installment of the renowned trilogy. Afterwards he brushed his teeth and washed his face. The curtains had already been drawn over the large windows, and the blankets had been turned down from the bed. He stripped out of his dress clothes and pulled on his pyjamas before slipping between the soft sheets of his almost absurdly large bed. It was very lonely for his first night.

Mistress Hori did not return until eleven o’clock the next day. She returned with a group of women who smiled and fluttered over to Tom as soon as he stepped into the living room. They never spoke English, not to him. He was flustered under the attention, not knowing what he was supposed to do. After a few minutes of having the ladies gawk at him, gentle hands pressed at his back and pulled on his arms, leading him towards his bedroom.

He stood before the three sided mirror. Mistress Hori stood behind him, talking to the maids. They seemed to be fussing over his appearance, looking up and down his body.

Mistress Hori’s next words were a little concerning. “Remove your clothing, Tom.”

He looked at her through the mirror. He didn’t know what was happening, but was in no position to disobey her. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the ground. He unbuckled his belt and wiggled out of his trousers to let them pool around his feet. He stepped out of them and removed his socks.

“Everything,” she reminded him.

Sighing, he bared himself before the mirror. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting to come up and cover himself. Personally, he was okay with how he looked, but this was an entirely different thing. They were prepping him for something.

Mistress Hori talked to the maids. When she was done, the women led Tom into the bathroom. They filled the large bathtub with warm water and different kinds of oils. When the water was ready, he sat down in it and leaned into the back of the tub. The maids washed his body with soft cloths, using different kinds of soaps for his skin. They washed his hair, massaging shampoo and conditioner into it to make it soft and manageable. When they were done, they bade him to step out of the tub and dry him.

With a bathrobe on, he sat down in a chair before the bathroom mirrors. It was far enough away from the counter tops that the maids would be able to move around him easily. One maid began to work at his unruly hair, two others began to look at each hand, and the last one was working on his feet. His hair was cut and trimmed, styled in a way that Mistress Hori must’ve found pleasing. His finger nails were trimmed and filed to perfect curves. The rough callouses on his feet, however, had to be rubbed away with a special type of stone.

“Ahh!”

It tickled him a little, and his feet were always sensitive. He tried not to squirm away, but sometimes he couldn’t help his knee-jerk reactions. The maids giggled as he tried to keep his composure. When they were done with the basics, they had him rinse quickly before seating him in the same chair as before. This time they began shaving him. His face, his armpits, his legs. Everything. Even the little bit of hair on his chest was removed. They made him sooth. They rinsed him one last time before rubbing in body lotion to make him exceptionally smooth and soft.

He returned to the bedroom, thankfully wearing a bathrobe. Mistress Hori smiled when she saw him. She ran his hands through his shortened hair, lifting his hands to inspect them, and caressing his smooth face.

He stood before the mirror again, and the maids took out a selection of clothes and jewellery from suitcases and boxes. The robe was pulled back from his shoulders and off of his body.

The garments they dressed him in were ornate and of no origin he was familiar with. They were very colourful, made of silk and satin. They slid against his skin. The garments would cover most of him, leaving only parts of him exposed: his chest, his back, his legs to the knees, his shoulders, and mostly his arms. The way the garments wrapped around him would be impossible to do up on his own. He hoped he wouldn’t be expected to wear these types of things every day.

When he was dressed in something the Mistress Hori approved of, the maids added jewellery to finish it. They added thin bracelets to his wrists and ankles that _tingled_ with every move.

The maids moved back, allowing Tom to take in the full view of himself. Here at twenty-two he was nothing more than a glorified doll. He was clean, trim, dressed, and bedazzled. It was shocking to see the transformation in full view.

Mistress Hori stood beside him, watching him look at himself in the mirrors. “You are beautiful, Tom. A body like yours must be taken care of and guarded from those who wish to use it for the wrong purposes. Absolutely gorgeous.”

Mistress and the maids admired him for a few more moments before putting everything away. Tom continued to stare at himself in the mirror, turning and twisting to see how the clothing swaddled him. The clothing along his legs felt strange. He could feel every movement now that his legs were free of any hair. His legs looked strange, he thought. The gold bangles on his ankles only added to the image of him being an exotic creature.

That night he couldn’t get his stomach to stop fluttering. The maids and Mistress Hori enjoyed his company throughout the night. A movie was put on in the background as they arranged themselves in the living room. Mistress Hori was on her laptop for the better part of the night, but enjoyed the enthusiasm the women displayed with Tom.

They pulled him down on the couch with them, the bracelets clinking as he fell onto the cushions. They stroked his hair and skin, chatting to each other in Japanese while Mistress Hori laughed at what they said. It took a while for Tom to ease into the attention and the strangeness of the situation he was in. They treated him well, feeding him by hand with choice pieces of fruit and other small things that were laid out on the table. He made them laugh, and they made him laugh.

The women were tender in their ministrations and made sure Tom was as comfortable as could be. As the night progressed, Tom eased into the attention. He knew he was a pampered pet rather than a working slave, but he was sort of okay with that. He knew he would be treated well and provided with anything he could ever want. As long as he was safe, he was okay.

The tender strokes and caresses had Tom falling asleep with his head in the lap of one maid and his feet in the lap of another. Whoever was rubbing his feet knew all the right places to press to rub. His eyes were drooping, and the next thing that happened was Mistress Hori speaking to him.

“Time for bed, I think.” She snapped shut her laptop and had the women release Tom so that he could brush his teeth and do whatever else was necessary before falling into bed.

The maids removed the clothing and jewellery before he went to bed. They tucked him in, saying things he couldn’t understand but must’ve been sweet. The sheets felt weird against his shaved skin.

Mistress Hori was the last face he saw that night. She whispered, “Good night,” and kissed his forehead. He fell asleep right away.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Elsa decide to set down some ground rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chill-ish chapter I would say. I've got most of the chapters planned out for Tom's past and daily runnings in the Hemsworth household. I'm just a little at odds of what I should do in relation to the ending, so I would really love your opinions and suggestions in what you wish/want to see in relation to Tom's future with the Hemsworths.

Chris is in one of those light sleeps where the dreams are vivid but anything would be able to wake him up. It’s one of those good dreams where the pleasure is shooting up his spine and everything feels just great. The hazy figure between his spread legs knows just how to use their tongue and hands. They’re sucking and licking, and Chris feels like he’s just about to lose it when the person pulls off and looks up at him.

“Have I pleased you, Master?”

It’s Tom before him. Tom on his knees with his lips wrapped around Chris’s cock. And it’s no longer pleasurable but something dark and seedy.

And then he wakes in bed with a raging hard-on. He jerks, and the movement must’ve woken Elsa because she has a hand on his arm.

“Something wrong?” she whispers.

“No,” he says. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.” She turns back to his side of the bed while he kicks off the covers.

He reaches for one of his crutches and shuffles to the bathroom to jerk off and deal with his situation. On the way back he checks in quickly with India, who is sleeping quietly and doesn’t seem to need anything. He’s about to step back into his bedroom when he notices that the door to the guest bedroom is slightly open. He knows Tom is sleeping in there. Maybe he just likes to keep his door open. But then Chris notices through the crack that the bed is empty and the curly haired slave is sleeping on the floor.

On the floor.

He stands at the doorway, pushing it open a bit. “Tom,” he says.

He knows he said it quietly, but Tom jerks up like he’s been burned. He notices Chris and stands right away, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Jesus. Was he sleeping without a blanket and pillow on thin carpeted floors? And has he been sleeping like this for the past week?

“Do you need anything, sir?” he asks, voice rough.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor?” And Chris knows the answer before Tom even responds. “No, don’t answer that. I think I know.” He takes a few steps in. “Okay, get in the bed.”

Tom hesitates. For the first time in a week he hesitates to take an order, and Chris has a gut feeling that he knows why. But Tom obeys. He turns back the covers and sits on the bed, looking up at Chris with big, blue eyes.

“I want you to go to sleep,” Chris says. “As long as you live here, this is your room. You’re a guest in this house, and you’ll be treated as such. This is your bed, your dresser, your window. Got it?”

Tom nods. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“And, Tom?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You and I need to have a chat tomorrow and set down some ground rules.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Goodnight, Tom.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

* * *

 

Elsa is working the late shift that night, so she doesn’t start until four; which is a good thing because Chris needs to go to the hospital for a check up on his condition. They leave India with Tom, making it easier on all of them, and Tom just seems happy to be sitting with India for the next while.

As they drive to the hospital, Chris decides to bring up the topic of Tom. “We need to talk about him,” he says. “I think we need to establish some ground rules.”

“What do you mean?” she asks. “Is something wrong with the way he does things?”

“No. Well, maybe. Okay, so last night I found him sleeping on the bedroom floor. No blanket, no pillow. Just curled up on the floor like a dog.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t have permission. He’s walking on eggshells around us, Elsa. He thinks he’ll be punished if he does something wrong, and if he doesn’t get punished, then he thinks he still has to pay us in any way he can. You know what I’m saying, right?”

Elsa nods. “Yes. I do.”

“That’s why I’m saying we need some ground rules for him.”

Elsa taps her fingers on the steering wheel before replying. “I think in Tom’s case he still needs a set of rules to follow. He needs a routine. Now, I’m not saying that we make him do everything, but a few things around the house that should get done I think he should do.”

“Like what? It’s not like we have much to do around the house now anyway.”

“I know, but the few things that need to get done. Laundry, general cleaning, helping us cook, caring for India when we’re not around. For him to be comfortable around us, to be able to trust us, he needs to feel useful. And I know you’re not comfortable ordering him around. So we’ll make a list together, tonight, of the things we think Tom can do for us around the house. All right?”

Chris nods. “Are we agreeing to keep him then?”

“Do you want to keep him?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“If we’re going to keep him, then that is something else we have to discuss when we have the time. For now he’ll be living with us temporarily, at least until you get your cast off.” She parks alongside the road near the hospital and takes the keys out of the ignition. “Ready to go in?”

“Yep.”

She kisses him first before he opens the door. It’s sweet and slow and tender.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

 

The checkup at the doctor’s is positive, which is nice. The fracture in his rib is nearly healed, and the bone in his leg is healing nicely without any complications that the doctor could see. The cast should come off in the next five to six weeks, which is good news for Chris because it itches all the time and there’s nothing he can do about it.

They return home just after one. India and Tom are in the living room, already fed. Chris and Elsa have their lunch and start making a list of all the possible things Tom can do during the day. Cleaning is a given. The bathroom, the bedrooms, the living room, the kitchen. Everything. It can all use a good cleaning, perhaps daily. The windows can be washed but not all that often. He could also work on the small flowerbeds in the front of the house. Neither Chris nor Elsa has any time to do anything with them, and it would really be nice to have a thriving garden to make their house seem a little more homely.

Caring for India is a given. Even though Chris is home to take care of her, it’s nice to have someone help him take care of her when she needs to be changed and fed and it’s hard for Chris to be able to walk around on crutches and try to hold India at the same time.

And also cooking. Chris and Elsa love cooking together, but again the crutches pose a problem and a hazard. Tom would be much better suited to help her cook.

When the list is complete, they talk to Tom about what they’ve decided and how things work in this house compared to the other places he’s worked in.

“So, we’ve made a list for you,” Elsa says and slides the piece of paper towards him. India is sitting in Tom’s lap, trying to chew on one of his fingers. Chris fetches a teething ring from the living room and hands it to him.

“Thank you, sir,” he says and occupies India’s attention on the ring instead of his fleshy finger.

“Most of what’s written down are daily duties,” Chris says. “Other things you can look at every couple of days and see if it needs to be dealt with, but it’s not mandatory.”

Tom nods.

“And there’s one more thing we’d like to discuss,” Elsa says. “Chris told me about the accident you had yesterday in the kitchen.”

Tom’s head goes up, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to drop it, miss,” he says quickly. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, no, no. Don’t misunderstand me. I know it was an accident. I just want you to understand that no one in this house is going to raise a hand against you or make you do something you don’t want to do. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, miss. I do.”

“Good. And I also want you to come to one of us if you ever need something. Okay?”

“Yes, miss. Thank you.”

Elsa smiles. “Good. Now I have to start getting ready for work.” She leaves them sitting at the table.

Chris wants to address the incident they had the other day. He just wants to hammer down the nail of that point and leave it be. Plus he wants to help Tom. If he knows more about what Tom has been through, perhaps it’ll make it easier to avoid certain mishaps.

“Tom,” he says. “Did any of your previous masters use you for . . . sexual favours? You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I just really want to try and make sure you’re comfortable living here. I really want to help you. Elsa and I really want to help you.”

India drops her teething ring, and Tom reaches down to pick it back up for her. “I don’t want to tell you, sir. Not because I’m ashamed, but because you won’t want to keep me if you know.”

“Nothing you say is going to make me think any less of you.”

“I know people who wouldn’t want me holding their child if they knew what I was, sir,” Tom says, looking up. “I’m not exactly the cleanest of people, sir.”

“That’s not your fault, Tom. I couldn’t care less about what you’ve done. You did it because you had no choice. You are not going to be blamed for things that weren’t under your control.”

Tom nods. “Thank you, sir.”

 “And Elsa really does mean it,” he says. “If you have a problem or you need something or want to go out and do something, just ask.” It never hurts to repeat some things. Especially in Tom’s case.

“I will, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Tom. It’s just human decency.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom starts to accept his life as a pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support! I love each and everyone of you. Thank you for all the comments and the insights you have about the chapters. I hope you enjoy this other one. I have so much in store for you guys, it's not even funny. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Being a pet was simple. All Tom had to do was sit there and let the maids do their things. All he had to do was listen and be pliant. The more days that passed, the more he grew to love the attention he was shown.

When his leg hair began to grow again, the maids, instead of shaving, waxed them. It was painful at times. They were tearing the hairs out instead of just shaving them down. They soothed his irritated skin by massaging him after, and he guessed it was worth it. He remained hairless for longer after a waxing.

The first dinner party Mistress Hori had took place a week and a half after she bought him. The maids took extra care over his appearance that night. They were gentle and caring and precise. They applied product to his hair to make it sit a certain way. The clothing they chose to dress him in consisted of only a skirt. It was fairly thick and heavy so it wouldn’t fan out if he spun around. It sat nicely on his hips and fell to his knees. It was a light blue; something the maids thought would go nicely with his skin tone.

The jewellery they had him wear was silver instead of gold. He wore two silver cuffs on each wrist to cover up the black cuff on his right and make the image symmetrical. A delicate silver chain was placed around one his ankles, and a silver necklace with beads and gems the same light blue his skirt was.

The dinner took place at six. Mistress Hori explained to him that he would be standing by her seat. He wouldn’t be fed during dinner but after they retired to the living room. There he would sit by her feet, and she would feed him until he was full.

The maids had cooked the food and set the table. They would be back later to help Tom into bed and the guests were gone. The guests came in pairs. They each had their own pet. Male, female, different ages, and different ethnicities. They were more or less dressed like him in fine clothes and jewellery. But they all seemed happy. They smiled and enjoyed the attention the other masters and mistresses showered upon them.

Because Tom was the new pet, he was mostly the center of attention before the owners sat down to dinner. None of them spoke English, but the way Mistress Hori smiled and nodded her thanks suggested that it was all good praise.

Dinner commenced as soon as the guests had all arrived. The food smelt delicious, and it caused Tom’s stomach to growl. Only Mistress Hori heard it, and she smiled, stroking his arm.

“Soon, pet, soon,” she murmured.

Tom was only required to stand by her side for the most bit, but was once in a while asked to fetch a full pitcher of water or something small like that.

After dinner they moved to the living room, taking spots on the furniture. The pets perched on the armrests of the chairs or couches or just sat on the floor by their owner’s feet. Tom folded his legs underneath him and sat next to Mistress Hori. She fed him as she’d promised, offering him pieces of fruit and crackers with toppings. He began to lean against her legs more and more. After he was fed, Mistress Hori began to run her fingers through his hair, running down his neck with her nails scratching lightly between his shoulder blades.

The guests began to leave around ten-thirty. The maids returned just before eleven. Tom picked at the leftovers and helped a little with the clean up before being pushed off to the bathroom to clean up. He was seen to in the bedroom. The jewellery was taken away and placed back in the right boxes, and the skirt was hung up in the closet. He was starting to get used to being naked in the presence of Mistress Hori and the other women. It still made him blush, but he was no longer hesitant.

He stretched out on his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Mistress Hori sat on the edge of his bed, placing a hand on his and stroking his knuckles with her thumb.

“Did you have a good night, Tom?” she asked.

He nodded and yawned, covering it up with his free hand. “It was nice. Everyone was very nice.”

“They liked you very much. Now, get some rest. I will see you tomorrow.”

* * *

Tom’s life as a pet progressed. There was no set routine to the dinner parties. Sometimes there would be two a week or two a month. Sometimes they would happen in Mistress Hori’s flat, or they would take place somewhere else in the city. Tom enjoyed the times when he got to leave the flat. He got to see a bit more of the city, but he was mostly kept in the flat.

After six months of living with Mistress Hori, Tom began to fall into a pit of depression. Because Mistress Hori had her own business to run, she sometimes spent a long time away from the flat. She had business trips that took her out of the city for extended periods of time. The maids were there to make sure Tom was fed, but they never stayed long and more than once Tom found himself alone in a large flat, craving some form of companionship.

On those long nights of separation and extended trips or delayed flights, Mistress Hori would call in to check up on him. Just to make sure he was doing all right and wasn’t in dire need of anything.

“Two days,” she said. “At the most. Then I should be back.”

Tom sighed, cradling the phone closer to his ear. “Is it really going to take so long?”

“Simple matters can be made difficult when one person becomes picky over the smallest of matters. But that’s not what worries me right now. You sound upset, Tom. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just—I miss you, I guess.” And he did. Somewhere deep down he missed his Mistress. He missed her gentle touches and the way she let him sit by her while she worked, pressing his head against her thigh.

“I miss you, too, Tom. Do you want me to call one of the girls to come down to see you?”

“No, I think I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“All right then. I’ll see you in a few days, Tom. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

When Mistress Hori returned, Tom found himself starved for her affection even if she was exhausted from the trip. After she was settled and told Tom all about her trip, she went to her bedroom to lie down and rest.

A half hour later, Tom slipped into her room. He was normally a very affectionate man, had been since before he lost his freedom. A week without Mistress Hori meant fewer visits from the maids and no dinner parties. That was a week without any petting or prepping. He’d been alone the entire week with very few sources of entertainment. So, not wanting to be alone a minute longer, Tom situated himself on the foot of the bed right at Mistress Hori’s feet. He did not wake her and simply listened to the breathing of another near him.

He slept a little, lightly, and felt a blanket being placed over him. He knew it was his Mistress. She brushed back his hair and kissed his temple.

“I missed you,” he said. “A lot.”

“I know. I’ll make sure I make the proper arrangements next time.”

She let him sleep in her bed that night.

* * *

The next day was a quiet day for the both of them. Mistress Hori took the time to work at home and relax, and Tom stuck by her side, reluctant to be left alone. They spent the day in his room because it was lighter in there for most of the day. Tom lay on his side and stared out the window while Mistress clicked away on her laptop and laughed at what was on the TV. He thought about the separation from Mistress and knew that it would happen again and could very well be longer than just one week. He wasn’t a PA anymore or any type of working slave. He was a pet, something private that remained at home. If separation was going to cause him anxiety and grief, then he at least wanted something to occupy his mind and fill the empty hours with productivity.

He rolled over onto his other side, looking up at Mistress from where she sat against the headboard. He placed a hand on her knee, shifting a little to close the distance between them. She paused in her work to pet his hair, nails scraping over his scalp and around his ear.

“If I were to ask you for something,” he said, “would you give it to me?”

“What do you want, pet?”

“Just a few things. For when you’re gone and I need something to do.”

Mistress Hori picked up a piece of paper and a pen and gave it to Tom. “Write down what you need, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Tom took it and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to write down his list on the bedside table. He wrote down titles of books and movies he’d been wanting to watch and read, a laptop if it was reasonable, and at the bottom he wrote _treadmill_ because he wanted to run again, to feel the burn in his legs. He’d used to jog when still being owned by Ken. Just a few times a week in the morning if his schedule allowed it. Plus months of inactivity had made him lazy, something that didn’t sit right with him.

He gave it back to her and lay on his side again. She scanned it quickly. “A treadmill?” she asked.

“Not a large one or an overly complex one,” he said. “Just something I can run on, if that’s all right.”

“Do you like to run?”

He nodded. “I used to do it all the time back in London. I would like to start up again.”

“I don’t see why not,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

* * *

Within three days, Tom had everything that he put on his list. Mistress Hori smiled at his reactions and how enjoyed himself with each new gift. He threw himself into the books and curled up on the couch with a fresh brewed cup of tea and felt much better. Mistress was just glad to see him feeling better.

The treadmill was a very simple one, something that could be folded and tucked away. He began to run, but quickly found he tired easily. Day after day he built up his endurance and stamina. He began to feel better about himself. He set his routine that he followed when alone in the flat. He had control over his life. For once he had control, and it was his.

After a year of being a pet, Tom had settled in quite nicely. Going to dinner parties was one of his highlights. He enjoyed the attention he got from other people. He liked how the maids paid him extra care when doing his hair and choosing his clothes and accessories. He liked being noticed instead of that background presence he was trained to be. He wasn’t a slave to Mistress Hori. He was a companion, another presence in a large, empty space. He was cherished.

And yet it was temporary. After two years of living in luxury and being a prized pet, Mistress Hori explained to Tom that she found a nice man who wanted Tom as his PA. In other words she was trading him for another slave that caught her fancy. And Tom felt a little disheartened. He felt like he was disappointing his Mistress, wasn’t doing something right and letting her down.

“Have I displeased you in any way?” he asked one night.

“Oh, Tom, no. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just think that now is the best time that I let you go. People as extraordinary as you are not meant to be locked up for the rest of their lives. They are meant to be shared and enjoyed by others. Now come sit by me and I’ll explain the rest of the details.”

Tom did. He walked away from the large windows and came to sit on the couch beside her. She explained to him that the man in question—his new master—was from the United States. He was a respectable man from a nice home and would be able to provide for Tom. She promised him that he would be well looked after.

The maids came one last time to make him look presentable. He was leaving the next day. They trimmed his hair so it wouldn’t get in the way. It was all function with no presentation. There was no need to make him beautiful anymore.

Mistress Hori bought him several sets of clothes, both casual and formal. He took only a few of his books along. He didn’t have much space with him. After a restless sleep and a somber farewell, Mistress Hori gave him away to his new Master: Master Michael Bell. He was an older man. Fifties, perhaps? Graying hair, a bit large around the stomach, but his height kind of evened it all out. He was the prototypical international businessman with the standard American accent.

It was going to be a long flight to the United States, and another day of uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope! Mistress Hori did not sexually abuse Tom. I have plans in the future. So many plans. Don't worry. Soon, my pretties.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Elsa begin to learn more about Tom, but are still left with a lot of questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not exactly happy with this chapter. Just because it was so dull for the most part, but things start to get interesting after this I guess. I've got Tom's back story all planned out. I just need to figure out what he's supposed to do at Chris's. 
> 
> That's all I got to say about this.

Chris always wakes up when Elsa comes to bed late at night. He twists in bed to face her, smiling sleepily. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

They kiss briefly.

“How was work?” he asks.

“A pain in the ass,” she says. “I always get the grumpy customers. Nothing is ever good enough for them.”

“Aw. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

She rolls on top of him and smiles. “Well, there might be something you could do.” She bends down and brings their lips together. Chris brings up his hands to her sides, noticing the way she shivers as they inch under her thin shirt to reach skin. His fingers glide over the smooth skin of her belly and up to cup her breasts. His thumbs skim over her stiffening nipples, and she breaks the kiss to pant against his skin.

They fumble in the bed for a while. Elsa’s hands sneak down his torso to the waistband of sweatpants. Her skillful hands find his half hard cock and begin to stroke it. Chris drops his hands to the bed and lets Elsa completely takeover. Both of them are a little restless from the lack of intimacy they can share with one another. It would be another five or six weeks until they could actually have sex again.

Just before things start to get interesting, Chris stiffens. “Ow. Oh my God, Elsa, get off.”

Elsa gets off, and Chris immediately sits up and wings his legs over the edge of the bed. He reaches for a crutch and gets to his feet. “Shit. Ow.”

“Chris, is everything all right?” Elsa asks.

“Yep, fine. Just fine,” he says. “It’s just a foot cramp.”

“Are you sure? It could be a blood clot.”

“No, I’m sure. The doctor told me what to look for if it’s a blood clot. It’s nothing. I’m sure.”

Once the fit passes, Chris lies back down on the bed and kisses Elsa. “A few more weeks,” he says as they rearrange themselves on the bed and fall asleep.

* * *

Chris only has a week left to his vacation. His totalled car should be arriving within the next few days, but he won’t be able to drive for the next few weeks. This means Elsa will have to drive him, or he has to figure out a carpool with some of the people from his work. Either way it’ll be difficult to try and get to work, not to mention finding pants that’ll fit over his cast. He’ll probably end up wearing sweatpants to work every day, considering that he doesn’t want to rip his somewhat expensive suit pants. His boss shouldn’t mind considering that he doesn’t deal with potential clients. He’s a more of a behind-the-scenes employee. But if it does end up being a problem, Chris can always make a case to try and work from home. Either way he’s itching to get back to work.

Both are still undecided about whether or not they’ll keep Tom. Slaves can be bought for household purposes, but that’s more for the larger and richer households. And Chris and Elsa are perfectly content with running their own house on their own. Tom is very helpful with everything and he’s very nice, but neither are completely one hundred percent sure if keeping him is the right decision. According to Kershaw Insurance, they can keep him for at least eight weeks before they either give him back or file a claim for ownership.

They have seven weeks to decide. No pressure there.

While neither has imagined having a slave in the house, they aren’t complaining. It’s nice for Elsa to come home and find the dishes taken care of and the floor free of clutter so Chris won’t trip. It’s nice for Chris to have someone look after India if he falls asleep on the couch. It’s nice for the both of them to put their feet up and spend time with their daughter while another straightens the house. If either feels bad about making Tom do all these things while they sit back and relax, they eventually grow used to the silent presence. As bad as it may be, Tom was trained to do these sorts of things.

But the longer Tom lives with them, the Chris finds himself becoming increasingly more curious about him. What he knows is this:

  *          He looks to be in his late twenties, early thirties
  *          He’s hardworking and eager to please—might be an automatic mindset of being a slave though
  *          When he smiles—if he smiles—it’s full of teeth and usually follows a reaction from India
  * Side note: Tom’s laugh is very unique and contagious
  *          He also has an accent—an English accent. He’s a far ways from home then. Poor guy



But Chris doesn’t want to ask Tom. First, he wouldn’t know what to say or how to frame his questions properly. Second, he doesn’t know if Tom wants to talk about his past. Third, if Tom does want to talk about it, Chris doesn’t know how he—Tom—will react or look at Chris afterwards. The way Tom spoke to him the other night made Chris worry; worry that Tom might think less of himself when Chris reacts to his backstory.

Eventually, bits and pieces of Tom’s story do make their way out. Elsa asks him questions while they cook together. Not invasive ones. Not the ones that Chris is dying to ask, but simple ones.

“So, you’ve worked with kids before, Tom?”

Chris is listening from the living room couch.

“Yes, I have, miss. It was a few years ago now, but they were very sweet kids.”

“What were they like?”

“Oh, you know, typical kids. It was a girl and boy. The girl, she was four when I showed up. The boy was only a few months old. I stayed with that family for about two years.” Tom laughs a little. “The girl, Sarah, was very sweet. She was very nice to me and often brought home drawings she made at school for me.”

“Awww. That sounds adorable. She must’ve really liked you.”

“She did. They both did.”

There’s a gap of silence.

“Do you miss them?” Elsa asks, a bit softer.

“Sometimes,” he replies. “But we have to move on eventually.”

They finish dinner in silence, and Chris can kind of guess why. It must’ve been the look on Tom’s face that made Elsa decide not to ask any more questions.

Dinner is delicious, as always, and Chris notices that Tom is sitting against the back rest of his chair. Progress. Even if they don’t keep him, Chris hopes that the time Tom spends here is enough to make him feel comfortable in the presence of others. Give him a little something to go off of when he’s shuffled off to another house.

That night Tom offers to take India to bed and heads upstairs with her. Elsa is lying back in a corner of the couch with Chris leaning back against her chest. Their hands are entwined as they watch something on TV. They usually take this time to talk about their day and future plans for the weekend. But both are quiet, and it’s unsettling to Chris.

Ever since Tom came to them it’s as if the dynamic of the whole house has changed. He’s not blaming Tom. No, he could never blame Tom, but Chris and Elsa both know that Tom is different. There’s something about him that they can’t figure out, like an itch that can’t be scratched. They want to help Tom. Both feel that they owe it to him; that he deserves whatever they can bestow upon him. But they don’t know where to start.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Chris says.

“Just thinking about something,” she replies.

“About what?”

“Tom.”

“Mm.” He tips his head back to stare up at her. “He thinks if he tells us what happened to him it’ll somehow make us think less of him.”

“He actually thinks that?”

“He doesn’t know who we are, Elsa. He’s just playing it extremely safe. He thinks we won’t want him to take care of India if we know what he’s done.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I know that, but I don’t think he does. I think it’s so ingrained into him that he has to take the blame for everything.”

“How do you think he ended up as a slave?” she asks quietly. “He just doesn’t seem like that kind of guy who would get in trouble with the police.”

“Well, maybe he was different before he became a slave. Maybe he was a pimp or a drug dealer. We don’t know.”

“Yeah, but do you really think that?”

Chris shakes his head. It’s so impossible and absurd to see Tom as a criminal. He’s nice; he’s kind; he’s polite. “I don’t.”

They don’t talk about Tom for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up soon.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom receives a grim reminder of what he actually is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited about this chapter. I guess this is the start of all that is bad.

Life with Michael Bell was brief and uneventful. All Tom did was keep the house in order and bring his Master refreshments if he needed anything. Master Michael was married and had three children who all had lives of their own. The wife, Mistress Anne, liked to garden extensively. If Master Michael was out during the day, Tom was outside with Mistress Anne. He liked Mistress Anne.

Mistress Anne Bell was in her fifties. Her hair was silver and short and often wavy. She was proud of her garden and liked to talk to Tom while she worked. She asked him questions, and he would reply. He wasn’t a pet any longer, but a member of the family with a few more restrictions. He had to remember his manners and training in the Bell’s home. He had to remember to add ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’ when talking to the Bell’s, but it wasn’t enforced if he let it slip. The Bell’s didn’t care much for formality or proper slave etiquette. That suited Tom just fine.

His duties were light: serving meals and refreshments, house cleaning, aiding Mistress Bell in gardening, and whatever else was asked of him. They treated him with respect, and in turn he worked hard and efficiently.

The Bell’s lived somewhere in the Eastern United States. Tom didn’t know the name of the city or of the state. It didn’t matter to him anymore where he lived. It was nice to travel the world without having to worry about the expenses. Plus he didn’t have to worry about any living expenses. Room and board were free in exchange for his services. Any thoughts he had of what slavery was actually going to be like didn’t bother him anymore. He adapted. Yes, there were things he missed—familiar faces and being free to do what he liked—but he was taken care of properly. Life with the Bell’s was the same as life with Ken Branagh. It was normal, and Tom liked it.

The Bell’s ended up keeping him for six months.

Master Michael and Mistress Anne had been planning a long international trip for quite some time—a trip that would last for many weeks. That meant they would close up the house or lease out to some people. That meant they had no use of Tom and were selling him back to the slave centers.

Tom hadn’t been in a slave center since he’d been first sold off. Years ago. He was picked up from the Bell’s house by an employee of the center and taken to it. There he had a cold rush pass over him. Here in the silent halls he remembered the first days of his enslavement. The handlers and trainers were not exactly kind. They were strict, demanding. They were like drill sergeants only a little less intense.

He was led to a private room for standard checkups and questions. The first part was like a standard doctor’s appointment. They measured his weight and height, checked him over for any illnesses or diseases, took blood samples for tests, and updated his file—that meant a new picture was taken, updating his profile online as well.

“Have you been feeling ill recently?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you been injured recently?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you ever been taken to the hospital for any reason concerning health recently or at all over the past few years?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you engaged in any unprotected sex recently or in the past?”

Tom nearly laughed. Nearly. Who would want to have sex with a slave? In the past four and half years, Tom did not have one sexual encounter. But he replied, “No, sir.”

The cuff on his wrist was removed to be updated to a newer and better model. The next cuff was slimmer and lighter.

After standard procedures, he was given a bunk in the sleeping quarters—a large room filled with bunk beds on either side to cram in as many slaves without it becoming uncomfortable, separated by gender. The slave center was different from living with a Master or Mistress. Tom had to follow the rules set in place. If he didn’t, he would be punished. Slaves weren’t beaten. No. Slave centers weren’t barbaric. They were strict. If a slave didn’t follow the rules, the punishments varied from restrictions—no courtyard exercise or isolation—to heavier duties—more chores, serving an employee, and working later at night. Tom had no intention of breaking any rules. He remembered himself when speaking to those of higher authority, adding on the appropriate ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ at the end. He kept his head down, his hands folded, and watched where he stepped. For all intent’s purposes he was as obedient as a slave could be.

The routine at the slave center was simple. Tom woke early with the other slaves—no later than eight. He had breakfast at the mess hall with the other slaves. No one spoke much there. The atmosphere was too heavy. At nine the slaves began to start their daily chores. They varied from slave to slave. Each had a set schedule. Duties included laundry, kitchen detail, general cleaning, and helping the employees where they needed to be helped. Tom was mainly in the kitchen for most of the morning. He cleaned dishes, dried dishes, and stacked dishes in the cupboards. He made lunch and repeated the cycle of washing, drying, and stacking.

At one o’clock there was an hour of free time in which the slaves could spend some time outdoors in the courtyard or resting before afternoon chores. Tom liked to go outside. There wasn’t much to do other than walk around the perimeter and enjoy the fresh air, but it was something. The only drawback was that the courtyard was surrounded by a twelve foot, cement wall. There were cameras in the corners, always watching them. It was then that Tom received a grim reminder that he was a slave. An honest to God slave.

After free hour it was back to work. For Tom that alternated between laundry and running errands for the employees. That lasted until six o’clock. Dinner time. After dinner the slaves had leisure time. There was a rec room that was only open from after dinner until curfew. The employees didn’t want the slaves to be distracted during the day, so this door was always locked until everything that needed to be done was done. The rec room was a nice place to be. The atmosphere was more relaxed and less somber. There was a TV with six channels—better than nothing. There was also a pool table, various card games, some tattered books, newspapers to keep up with relevant events, and puzzles books—Sudoku and crosswords. The slaves would talk then. It was easier to do so here without the eyes of the trainers and handlers on them.

Nine o’clock was curfew. Between dinner and curfew the slaves could wash up and shower, brush their teeth and whatever else needed to be done before bed. By nine they were in their sleeping quarters. Before they could settle in their bunks, the slaves stood beside them—hands folded, heads bowed. Roll call was mandatory. You had to be there, or you were screwed. No one missed roll call because no one wanted to know what happened if you did. And your name was never said. It was your number.

“IC-782?”

“Here,” Tom said.

He hated the number. He remembered the way they inked it into his skin the first day. The light had been blinding above him; the needled had pricked and scraped its way along his skin. His skin had been red and sensitive for a long time after that. He’d been reduced to a series of letters and numbers.

The trainer left the room. The doors were locked, but that was from the main hallway. They could still leave the sleeping quarters to go to the bathroom, but that was about it. The lights went out automatically by ten. Tom was usually awake for another hour or two in his bed. The one thing he always noticed was the lamplight streaming through the window onto the floor. The windows were barred from the outside. They could be opened to let in fresh air, but the bars were solid.

During one sleepless night, Tom drifted out of his top bunk and dropped silently to the floor. There was a large, LED clock above the door. It was past one in the morning. Most of the slaves—or all of them—were probably asleep by now.

He walked to the nearest window and opened it. The night air was cool, and the sky was clear. Light pollution clouded most of the stars, but he could still make out a few from where he stood. His fingers came up to grasp the metal bars. The facility was like a prison, and perhaps some people considered it just that.

When goose bumps rose on his skin and he shivered, he closed the window and returned to bed.          

* * *

For four months Tom was in the slave center. No one had put a bid on him yet, so he continued the set routine of the center and was the obedient slave the trainers wanted him to be.

By the end of the fourth month, someone had finally put a bid on him. A day after the bid was placed, a meeting was set up so that the new owners could meet with Tom before finalizing the purchase. The meeting was set up for the early afternoon. Tom was led to a private room with a table and some chairs.

“They’ll be here in a minute,” the employee said. “Remember your manners.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom said. He remained standing in the corner of the room in the proper stance until the others entered the room.

The employee—her nametag said Karen—came in with a dark haired, middle aged man. He was dressed in a sharp suit, and his hair was neatly combed and gelled in place. He was a serious and straight faced man and was clearly all business. Both Karen and the man took seats at the table while Tom remained standing.

“This is IC-782,” Karen said. “His first name is Tom, and he’s originally from the UK, but has spent time abroad. He has nearly five years of experience and will be able to adapt to your household quiet well.”

The man nodded and looked down at the file on the table before the two of them. “Have a seat, Tom,” he said.

Remembering his etiquette and training, Tom said, “Thank you, sir,” and took his seat across from them.

The man looked up, eyeing Tom carefully before sitting back in his chair. “Can you tell me about your previous owners, Tom? What did you do for them?”

“Yes, sir. My first Master had me work as his PA. I sometimes accompanied him on long business trips and helped him around at the office and at home. My Mistress after him kept me as a companion and nothing more. When I came here with my last master I was used to help around the house.”

“Companion?” the man asked. “What does that mean?”

Tom flushed at the thought. “I was a pet to her, sir,” he said.

“Hm.” The man’s eyes studied Tom’s face before asking more questions. “Have you ever looked after kids, Tom?”

“Yes, sir. My previous Master and his wife had grandchildren. They visited, and I would sometimes be required to watch over them. It was never more than a few hours, sir.”

“Well, I’ve got two kids, Tom. I’ve got a newborn boy and a girl who’s four. You’re going to be helping my wife look after the kids and the house. She’s a little frazzled right now, and we could really use the help.”

“Yes, sir. I will do whatever is required of me, sir.”

The man nodded and turned to Karen. “Is there anything else that needs to be done?” he asked.

“Would you like to buy him, Mr. Miller?” she asked. “The transfer and the paperwork can be done within two days, and you can pick him up in three.”

“Sounds good.”

“Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me before you finalize your purchase?”

“Yes,” the man—Mr. Miller—said. “I want you to shave his hair.”

Tom looked at him. It was not his place to say anything without permission, but this man wanted his hair to be cut.

“I don’t like the way it looks right now, and I think it might benefit him. My boy, he’s got a strong grip. He’s always tugging my wife’s hair. You get what I’m saying?”

Karen nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. Miller. How short would you like it to be?”

“Not completely shaved. Like, you can leave a little bit of length behind. But just get rid of the curls. God, just _look_ at them.”

Karen laughed a little. “Yes, sir. I see what you mean. I’ll make sure he’s ready for when you come to get him. Tom,” she said. “You can go back to work now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tom stood and left the room, heading back into the kitchens to finish his work. He ran a hand through his wild mop of curly hair. Yes, he had haircuts every now and then. Usually his owners noticed when his hair got out of control or reached an entirely new level of frizz and brought him to the haircutters. Mistress Hori and the maids always played with his hair. But this was something different. What Mr. Miller wanted was to control Tom’s identity completely as his new Master. It made Tom worry a little bit. He was no longer with someone who treated him as an equal. It was just one more nail in the coffin that made Tom realize that he was slave and there was nothing he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Miller! This is man, guys! In the next couple of chapters you'll be acquainted with this man and what he has to do with our boy Tom.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is restless and Tom is quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short ass chapter because I couldn't think of anything more to right and decided to just end it where it was. On the plus side, I have every chapter planned out, I think. It's just a matter of writing them
> 
> On the down side, I have two essays to write, so I don't know if that's going to affect updates, but we shall see.

Chris is restless. He can’t sit around the house for another moment, so he says to Tom that they’re going for a walk. India is strapped into her stroller, and they walk out of the house onto the sidewalk. It’s slow going with Chris lurching his way along on his crutches, but he’d rather be walking than sitting and counting down the days that he can return to work and have the cast removed.

At the end of the street is a bus stop with a bench. Chris sits down it to catch his breath, and Tom pulls up beside him. They’ll stay for a few minutes.

“Tom, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you happy here?”

Tom sits down on the bench and reaches into the stroller to stick India’s soother back into her mouth. “What do you mean, sir?”

“I know the agreement I have with the insurance company. You’re here temporarily unless if Elsa and I decided to keep you. If we don’t, then you go back. If we do, you stay with us. What’s going to happen to you after your eight weeks are up?”

“I’ll go back to the center and wait until I’m rented out again, sir.”

“Would you rather stay with us?”

Tom isn’t looking at him, but rather keeping his eyes on India. “It’s your decision, sir. I will be content with whatever you decide.”

“I know it’s my decision, Tom, but I really want to hear from you. Would you rather stay with us than be taken back?”

Tom grips the stroller loosely. “If it’s all right with you, sir, I would like to stay with you and Miss Elsa. But I won’t take offense if you decided not to keep me. As I said, sir, it’s your decision.”

A bus passes in front of them, stopping to let passengers off before continuing on.

“Let’s head back,” Chris says.

They walk back to house just in time for lunch.

India is put down for her nap in the afternoon, leaving Chris and Tom alone in the house until Elsa returns from work near dinner time. Tom was scurrying around the house, completing his list of chores. He cleans the kitchen and both bathrooms, straightens the coffee table, and starts a load of laundry. There is nothing more for him to do until the laundry is done and he can put it in the dryer. Chris invites him to sit in the living room. He himself is just working on his laptop, figuring out rides and talking with his boss. Tom has picked up a magazine and is flipping through it, turning the pages carefully so that they won’t rip and make little noise.

“Do you need anything, Tom?” Chris asks as he stretches his arms above his head and takes a break.

“Why do you ask, sir?”

Chris shrugs. “I’m just wondering if you need anything.”

Tom blinks and then frowns a little. “No, sir. I don’t need anything.”

“Are you sure?”

He hesitates, clearly thinking about something, but replies, “Yes, sir. I’m fine, sir.”

“But if you do need anything, you can just ask.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom is not much of a talker apparently. He replies when he’s talked to, but remains quiet. More proof that the training he’s received is quite deeply ingrained into him. Chris wonders that if Tom was ever freed if he would ever be able to adapt to normal life again. Would he be able to look at someone in the eye and not cringe? Would he be able to talk freely and openly without being afraid? What exactly happens to a slave when they are freed? Chris has never heard any stories of free slaves. They don’t appear on the news. They just sort of appear in the background, blending in with everyone else, never really amounting to anything great.

Because they can’t.

Would it be better or worse for Tom to be freed? Chris doesn’t know, but it makes him feel increasingly bad. Tom is not going to have much a future either way. If he remains a slave, he remains a slave. If he’s freed, he will have nothing to his name, and very few people will probably be willing to help him. The tattoo on his skin is a permanent marker of his crimes. If people ever see it, then they’re going to have bad impressions about him right away.

It’s fucking messed up, and Chris can’t do anything about it. At least, not much. No one ever tells you about what to do with a freed slave. There aren’t any courses or fliers or websites or rehabilitation centers. Slaves are just supposed to figure it out on their own. And if they’re far from home like Tom is, that’s just another hurdle to get over and adapt to a foreign country.

When the laundry is cleaned and dried, Tom goes upstairs to check up on India and bring her downstairs. When Chris has her, he starts to fold the laundry, setting it in piles around him. He sets the piles in the laundry basket when he’s done and takes it upstairs to put the clean clothes away. When he’s done, he sits on the living room floor and opens the magazine he was flipping through before.

The door opens, signalling Elsa’s arrival, and Tom gets up to greet her.

“Chris?”

“In here.”

He tips his head back against the couch and watches Elsa approach him. She smiles and kisses him quickly. “And how has my baby been doing today?”

“Well, he went for a walk today,” Chris replies. “And got some work done.”

Elsa grins and picks up India. “Did you go for a walk with, daddy?” India squeals when Elsa tickles her belly. “And what else did you do today?”

“Figured out rides for the next couple of weeks.”

“And?”

“Robert can pick me up. It’s no trouble.”

“Every day?”

“Every day.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She sets India on his lap again before dashing upstairs to change.

Tom returns to the room and takes up his magazine again, sitting quietly and reading. It’s such a natural look for him. Do they have any books around here? Chris isn’t much of a reader, and Elsa has her Jodi Picoult collection, but they don’t have much else around here. He thinks he should pick something up for Tom one day. Something classic that everyone loves. Something he can’t go wrong with. Or he can just ask Tom. But he’s already so quiet and shy that Chris doubts he’ll get any book preferences from him.

Life goes on as usual after that. They have dinner. Tom cleans up while Elsa puts India to bed. The three of them are in the living room, watching TV or talking to each. Not Tom, though. Tom doesn’t add to their conversations, though Chris wishes he would. It’d be nice to see Tom actively participating in normal household activities. But he shouldn’t rush him. Rushing Tom might make him anxious like insisting he didn’t call Chris ‘Master.’ He doesn’t want to set Tom back, so perhaps the best course of action is to just let it be. Tom will warm up to them eventually.

Hopefully.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom learns that Master Cole expects a lot from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin. I hope you enjoy this chapter. No official warnings yet, but I have updated the tags if you did not notice.

Before Tom left the slave center, he was taken to a separate room and watched clumps of his fall onto the ground. The buzzer whirred behind him and skimmed over his head. His fingers twitched and curled under the black cape. A particularly large clump fell onto his lap. He shook it free to send it onto the floor to join the others.

His shoulders were brushed off, and the cape was removed. He was allowed to leave the room and continue his chores.

While he was in the shower stalls, he ran his hands over his head. There was maybe half an inch of hair left. There wasn’t much left to wash or dry. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. No more frizzy curls.

“They shaved your hair?”

Tom looked over his shoulder. Another slave, still wet from the showers, was looking at him. “Yes,” he said.

The other slave shook his head. “Never goes well after that. Was it a condition for sale?”

Tom nodded.

“Take it from me, man. Keep your head down if you’re going into a place like that. Nothing good can ever come out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

The slaved stepped forward and placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “If a Master is asking that your hair be cut before they take you home, it’s because they want to fucking own you. Not as a pet, or because they care about your needs, but as a fucking slave. You get me?”

Tom nodded, and the slave went back to drying his body and redressing. Tom finished dressing himself and went back to the rec room.

Sleep eluded him as he curled up on his side with his legs tucked up and the blanket up to his chin. Tomorrow he would be leaving.

* * *

He wasn’t picked up until five in the afternoon. The man’s full name was Cole Miller. He drove an expensive car, and his house was located in the more privileged neighbourhoods of the city. It was a large house with a two bay garage, a gorgeous front garden, and large windows.

Master Cole led Tom into the house where they both took off their shoes at the front door. The foyer opened up into the large and shiny kitchen, which was attached to the living room. Between the kitchen and the living room was the breakfast table. The deck door at the back wall showed a large, fenced in backyard.

Master Cole led around the first floor of the house, showing off the living room, the separate dining room, the office, and the kids’ playroom. There was another door that led to the basement, but Master Cole said that Tom wouldn’t need to go down there often.

Upstairs there were four bedrooms: the master bedroom, the two bedrooms for the kids, and a bedroom for Tom. There were two bathrooms on the second floor—one in the master bedroom and one for the other inhabitants and one on the main floor. Tom’s room was medium sized with a single bed and a dresser. He set his bag down on the floor and followed Master Cole back the stairs to the main floor.

“Lucy’s out with the kids right now,” Master Cole said. “They’ll be back soon. There’s a list beside the fridge of all your daily duties. You’ll be helping out with the kids a lot. And you’ll be cooking. Can you cook, Tom?”

“A little, Master, not much, and not very well, I’m afraid.”

“You’ll learn. I’ll be in the office if you need me. Why don’t you get yourself familiar with the place?”

“Yes, Master.”

Tom went to the fridge first and picked up the stapled stack of printed papers. He was expected to wake up at seven every day and check on the six month old Sam. There was another paper that explained Sam’s schedule. At eight he was to have breakfast ready for Master Cole and the young four year old Sarah. Master Cole would leave at eight-thirty. There were instructions for how he took his coffee in the morning as well. At nine he would have Mistress Lucy’s breakfast ready for her in bed. For the rest of the day he would care for the children and complete his chores. At five he would start making dinner. There would be a list of what he should make that night. An hour or two after dinner he would put the children to bed and return to the kitchen to clean up.

The rest of the packet contained schedules for the kids and basic instructions for cooking and laundry for all types of clothing. He read over everything carefully and afterwards walked around the house, familiarizing himself with the layout. He went to his room and decided to put his belongings in the drawers. He was up in his room, reading his list until Master Cole called him down with a loud and firm voice.

“Tom? Come down here.”

Tom went to the kitchen where Master Cole was standing with a woman and two kids. The rest of his family.

“Master.” Tom looked to the blonde woman whose arms were full of a chubby, young boy. “Mistress.”

Mistress Lucy walked over and handed Tom the little boy Sam. “Is this him?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Master Cole. “Picked him up today.”

“He looks nice. Does he know where everything is and what he has to do?”

Master nodded. “He could probably use some help for the first few days, but after a week I think he’ll be fine.”

Tom held onto Sam, who was looking up at him with large brown eyes. The little girl Sarah was holding onto her mother’s pant leg and tugging. She looked very shy.

“Mommy,” she said.

Mistress Lucy looked down. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Who is that?” She pointed a finger right at Tom.

“That’s Tom. He’s going to be living with us, and he’s going to be helping mommy with you and Sam. Why don’t you go say hello?”

Sarah didn’t move, so Tom crouched down to her level so his height wouldn’t intimidate her. She approached him after that, still a good arm’s length away, though.

“Hello,” he said softly. “My name is Tom.”

“Sarah,” she said and ran back to her mother’s legs with a smile.

Once the introductions were done, Mistress Lucy and Master Cole settled down while Tom continued to hold Sam. He followed the couple to the living room and stood behind the couch as they talked to one another. Sarah was crawling over her mother, all the while looking at Tom from a safe vantage point. He stood quietly by, holding Sam for perhaps fifteen minutes before Master Cole and took the boy from his arms.

“Tom, come help me in the kitchen,” Mistress Lucy said, setting Sarah down by her father.

“Yes, Mistress.” He followed her into the kitchen and helped her prepare dinner: spaghetti and salad. He chopped the vegetables and did whatever Mistress told him to do. He set the table. He set a place for himself when Master Cole spoke up.

“Tom, what are you doing?”

Tom didn’t know what he had done wrong. He looked at the table then looked up again. “I’m setting the table, Master.”

“The table is where the family eats, Tom. You are not family. You eat after you’re done for the day or when we tell you.”

“Yes, Master. Sorry, Master.” He took back the extra setting to the kitchen and helped Mistress Lucy finish dinner and put it out on the table. Since he wasn’t allowed to eat, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed to sit at the table either, so he stood against the wall in standard resting position. He took careful note of how his owners fed the children. He would be doing that eventually, so it was good to observe how it was done properly.

When the family was done eating, Tom swept in to clear the dishes and tuck away the leftovers. The dishwasher was already partially full. He put the dishes in after rinsing them briefly. He set the larger pans to soak so that the food wouldn’t get suck. He ran the dishwasher and filled a sink of hot, soapy water.

The rest of the kitchen was cleaned quickly, and his stomach growled, but he was not allowed to eat according to his Master. When he was free, he helped Mistress put the kids to bed. Sarah wanted a book to be read to her, and her mother asked Tom if he could do it.

Sarah was a little shy of Tom. She huddled under her blankets with her nightlight and bed lamp on. Tom sat down cross legged with his back resting against the edge of the bed. It was a Dr. Seuss book, something he always read when he was that young. He held the book up high so Sarah would be able to see the pages from where she lay.

The book was _Horton Hears a Who._ Tom read slowly and clearly, skimming the pages with his fingers, raising or lowering his voice with each new character. He finished the book and closed it, twisting to see Sarah had shifted a bit closer to the edge of the bed.

“I like how you read,” she said, voice muffled by her blankets. “You do the voices. Mommy doesn’t.”

“I’m glad that you liked it,” Tom replied. “What book would you like to read tomorrow night?”

Sarah crept out of bed to her bookshelf, filled with the thin, colourful pages common in children’s books. She pulled out another Dr. Seuss book— _The Cat in the Hat—_ and jumped back into bed. “That one,” she said.

“All right. We’ll read this one together tomorrow night. Sound like a plan?” She nodded, and Tom set the book aside on the night table before standing and turning off the bed lamp.

He left the room quietly and went down to the living room where Master and Mistress were lying together. He waited closer to the kitchen, silent and still for someone to notice and give him instructions. He didn’t have to wait long, thankfully.

“How’s Sarah, Tom?” Master Cole asked.

“She’s in bed now, Master,” he said.

“Well, then I guess you can eat now and just hang out until we go to bed. Make sure all the lights are turned off and the doors are locked.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

Tom went to the kitchen and served himself some of the leftovers. It was a lonesome meal, and he was reminded of the words of the slave back at the center. _They want to fucking own you_. Tom was already getting that vibe from his new owners. He would have to tread carefully, remember to say ‘Master’ and ‘Mistress,’ to not question their orders and just keep his head down. He could do this. He was sure of it

He cleaned up after himself and went up to his room to read for a bit. He had five books with him, two from when he was still with Ken and three when he lived with Mistress Hori. They were battered and crinkled, and he’d read them multiple times, but he loved them all just the same. He kept the books he would never get sick of reading, one of them being _Hamlet,_ one of Shakespeare’s best.

When he was in school, he’d been studying English and perhaps Drama on the side. He loved the freedom that came with the stage and the ability to take on another personality. He hadn’t known what he wanted to go into, whether it would be teaching, writing, or acting. He didn’t know even now and knew that any chances of getting any dream job were out of the question.

You always heard about from other people, how _the bad_ people were being taken away. You never thought it was going to happen to you until they came knocking on your door. Tom never thought he’d end up here. His parents raised him to be better and to take care of himself. Because he was a slave, did that make his parents think less of him now? What were they doing with their lives? Did they even think about what he was doing? Did they worry?

He lost himself in the novel on purpose so he could stop his mind from overthinking. The tears gathered at the edges of his eyes, but they didn’t fall. He had to keep moving on.


	11. Chapter Elven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Elsa make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My ability to turn out an essay draft surprises me. I didn't think I'd be back so soon with another chapter, but hey. My essay writing skills are exemplary.
> 
> Enjoy!

Returning to work is about as exciting Chris expects it to be. Everyone welcomes him back with bright smiles and gentle claps on the shoulder. They ask about his condition, about the crash, about how he’s feeling. He answers all the questions and hobbles around the office on one leg. Really, he’s just happy to be back at work. It’s nice to be doing something again. His work may have piled up while he was gone, but he’s sure he can get it done with his renewed enthusiasm for work.

It’s a nine-to-five job. He’s picked at eight thirty by a co-worker and gets there at least ten minutes to nine. They leave at five or just a bit after, and he gets home by five thirty usually. Depending on her schedule, Elsa will be home to greet him with India on her hip. Sometimes, before they got Tom, he would return to an empty house, meaning Elsa has a late shift and he has to pick India up from a friend’s house or daycare. But with Tom, things aren’t so confusing anymore.

Now it’s Tom who greets him while holding India. He always opens the door first even if Elsa is home. It’s then that Tom begins to smile more openly. He always welcomes Chris home and asks him how is day was. And Chris responds in earnest, appreciating the small changes in Tom’s behaviour.

When it’s just the three of them at home during the odd nights Elsa works the late shift, Chris sits at the kitchen table with India nearby while Tom cooks. Sometimes they talk, and it’s nice and easy without being awkward. Tom knows his way around a kitchen and can cook quite well.

“Where’d you learn to cook like this, Tom?” he asks.

“I’ve picked things up here and there, sir. The family I stayed with a few years ago needed me to help cook as well as watch their kids, so I’ve learned quite a lot from them.”

The things Tom can do to a skinless chicken breast are divine. Elsa also enjoys cooking with Tom. They learn from each other and banter with each other while they cook together.

Chris thinks that Tom is settling in nicely. There’s an extra bound in his step. He’s livelier and less quiet. He sings or hums to himself if he’s working and no one’s looking. He’s so different from when he first arrived, and Chris is thinking that I’d be best to keep him. Sending him back now would just be cruel.

So three and a half weeks since Tom’s arrival, Chris and Elsa talk to each other in the quiet of their bedroom late one night.

“I think we should keep him,” he says.

“Yeah, me too,” she says.

“India loves him. He’s such a great help around the house.”

“Oh, I know. Yesterday after work he had a plate of food just sitting for me in the fridge, all ready to go for the microwave. He’s so considerate.”

“So are we in agreement then? ’Cause I’ll call the insurance this weekend and settle it.”

Both are quiet for a moment. Then Elsa says, “Yes. Call them.”

* * *

It’s four more days until Chris has free time to call the insurance company. He doesn’t want to do it at work where someone might hear the conversation. He doesn’t want to become the gossip at the water cooler. Different people have different views on slaves, and Chris doesn’t want to become _that_ person that people always sneak glances of. Doing it at home is the more preferable solution.

Saturdays and Sundays Chris doesn’t have to work, so he gets to sleep in until the sun floods his room and fills it with a warm glow. Elsa has the day off, so it’ll be the four of them at home.

He wakes up alone and takes his time getting dressed and out of bed. He hops down the stairs and uses his crutches to get into the kitchen. Tom gets up from the table from where he’s sitting and eating a bowl of cereal.

“Would you like some breakfast, sir?” he asks.

“No, I’m just going to grab some cereal.”

“Would you like some coffee, sir?”

Chris looks to the coffee pot and sees that there’s maybe half a cup inside. “Uh, sure. That’d be great.”

Tom dumps the old coffee and starts a fresh pot. Chris pours himself a bowl of cereal with some milk and takes it over to the table with a spoon. The coffee is set before him with the cream and sugar.

“Thank you, Tom.” He makes the coffee the way he likes it and stirs it with a clean spoon. “Don’t you want any?”

“Oh, no, sir. I already had some this morning. But thank you for asking, sir.”

They eat their breakfast in silence, and Chris is debating telling Tom right now that he’s applying for ownership. He wants to see Tom’s reaction, wants to see the slowly growing smile into a full on grin. A true, genuine smile.

“So, Tom,” he says, sipping his coffee briefly. “Elsa and I have decided that we’re going to make our claim for ownership. Today, in fact.” Tom says nothing. “I just wanted you to know that that’s our decision.”

“Thank you for letting me know, sir.” His head is ducked down, but Chris likes to think that Tom is smiling

After breakfast Chris gets some papers and the letter from the insurance and a phone. He dials the number and waits two rings before he’s answered by a cheery recipient.

“Hello, Kershaw Insurance. How can I help you today?”

“Yes, hello. I’m Chris Hemsworth and I’m here to talk about possible transfer of ownership of a slave I got.”

“All right. Let me just pull up your file here.” There’s keyboard clacking on the other side. “Yes. Chris Hemsworth. You are in possession of Slave IC-782, correct?”

“Yep. That’s him.”

“All right. Let me see what we’ve got here.” The woman on the other line goes quiet for a moment. “A claim for ownership you said?”

“Yes. I’m wondering what steps I’ll have to take in making the purchase final. I did ask about it a few weeks ago, and they said I could file a claim if I wanted to keep him.”

“Yes, that is possible, and we do have the forms for you to fill out. For that to happen, you’ll have to come down here to the company with IC-782. There will be representative from the nearest slave center to oversee the handoff. This may be different from any trades you’ve dealt with, but because we are a public company we have to do this in the eyes of the law.”

“All right. Sounds good to me then. So when should we come down?”

“I can set up a meeting for Tuesday afternoon at three. Is that all right with you?”

Chris considers his options for a moment before replying. He’ll have to get Elsa to pick him up early from work and then go down to the insurance company to do whatever is necessary. “Uh, yeah. That sounds great.”

“All right. I’ll set that up for you and I will see you in a few days, sir.”

“Thank you, then. And goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

Everything works according to plan.

* * *

Elsa picks Chris up from work at the right time and they drive off with a full car to Kershaw Insurance. It’s not a long drive and this meeting shouldn’t—hopefully—take all that long. Tom is in the back sitting next to India in her car seat. He tries to keep her occupied when she fusses and it seems to work. She really has taken a shine to Tom and is quite attached to him. They’re totally making the right decision for keeping him.

All four of them get out of the car and walk into the building. They’re seen to right away and led to a fairly large room so that they can discuss everything. They take their seats and are greeted by one of the insurance employees and an employee from the nearest slave center. Tom is left out of it. He stands behind the seats of Chris and Elsa. No one seems to pay him attention, and Chris wriggles in his seat uncomfortably. Once this is over, they can go straight home. Problem solved.

“Okay,” says the insurance employee (the nametag says Kevin). “Mr. Hemsworth, you said earlier over the phone that you would like to file claims of ownership for Slave IC-782, correct?”

Chris nods. “That’s the plan.”

“Let’s get started then.” Kevin hands Chris a stack of stapled papers: a contract. Included with a pen, Chris opens the packet and flips through it.

“What’s in the contract is basic information,” says Lisa from the slave center. “It’s just recognizing you as the full master of IC-782. He is your property and cannot be taken from you without a warrant, your permission, or a trade. If he is taken from you, we will make sure that your property is returned to you.”

Elsa looks over his shoulder and scans the pages. It’s a lot of reading, and Chris is just skimming. He can read this all later. As he signs the dotted lines and puts his initials here and there, Lisa explains the just of it all. As IC-782’s owner there are some things he is obligated to do and that is to care for IC-782’s well-being. Food, bed, medical attention if needed. The bare minimum really.

(He wonders how many owners disregard these factors. It’s bound to happen, right?)

“We’ll make a copy of this for you,” Kevin says as Chris hands him the filled out ownership claims. “And we’ll email you a digital copy just in case. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, sir, ma’am.” He shakes both Chris’s and Elsa’s hands before leaving the room.

“Just one more thing,” Lisa says. “IC-782, step forward.”

Tom steps around their seats and stands closer to the table. “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

“Show me your cuff.” He does, and Lisa scans it with this device she has. The procedure doesn’t take all that long, and the device beeps when it’s done. “And that is all I need to do. I assure you that everything will be taken care of officially at the nearest center. If you have any problems with your slave or any questions, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call.” She slips them her business card before leaving the room.

When they have the copied contract, they pack up and leave. Time to head home.

They get back home when it’s almost four o’clock. Chris puts the contract in a file so it won’t get lost and changes into something a little more comfortable and freeing. When Elsa and Tom step into the kitchen to make dinner, Chris listens to them talk back and forth. Tom laughs and also makes Elsa laugh. Everything feels so at ease and so _right_ that Chris smiles as he listens to them talk. Tom smiles more openly that night than he has in the weeks he’s been here. He gives them just a glimpse of how talkative he can be. He’s still reserved, but it is something to see Tom smile, all teeth, not holding back. It’s beautiful.

Yes. Chris and Elsa made the right decision.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life with the Millers is not simple but it's all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I'm back. I finished my essays. Now I just have to start writing exam reviews. I am so done with school.

The Millers were not bad people. They were capable people. Strong people. Caring people. They were not good, but not bad. Cole Miller cared deeply for his children and always played with them after he came home from work during the weekdays and took them to the park on the weekends. Lucy Miller was nice and incredibly thoughtful. Although she relished having the duties of her home taken care of by Tom, she always made sure Tom was looked after. Not cared for, but looked after. There is a large difference between the two. She looked after him in the way of basic needs, telling him to eat and once in a while asking if he needed anything specific: new clothing, something for if he was sick. Nothing much, but it was thoughtful.

Sam grew used to being cared for by Tom, and Tom got used to waking at odd hours when he heard him crying. Sarah enjoyed their nightly bedtime readings and was starting to come to Tom first if she needed something. Mistress Lucy didn’t seem to mind this fact. It gave her time to do the things she wanted. She often invited friends over, and on those days Tom had a few more duties to complete.

On the nice days they would use the deck. Tom would clean it while Sarah watched her brother while they played on the lawn. He set up the chairs and opened the umbrella and played with the kids before heading back in to finish his chores. He would then help Mistress bring out the refreshments and anything else she would need. When her friends arrived, he would show them into the house, welcoming them with a smile. They thought he was nice. He took the kids to the playroom on the main floor when the guests were over. That way they wouldn’t be distracting or noisy.

Sometimes Tom couldn’t help but think about his friends and family during these times when he had Sam on his lap and Sarah sprawled out on the carpet next to him. Were his sisters married? Did they have kids? He always wanted to know if he was being forgotten, if his sisters told their kids that they had an Uncle Tom who was far away. He couldn’t help thinking about these questions sometimes. He was afraid he was forgetting what his family looked like.

_Keep moving on, Tom. We’ve been here for five years. We can do this._

He told himself a lot of lies just so he could get out of bed in the morning.

* * *

Life with the Millers was busy all the time. You’d figure that soon the chore list would become smaller. No such luck. Tom was busy from the time his alarm went off in the morning to the minute he dropped into bed. Mistress Lucy liked the fact that there was someone else to take care of the house and the kids. She found many odd jobs for Tom to do that she was never able to do her house: cleaning all the windows (inside and out), dusting the ceilings for cobwebs that she could never reach, organizing different parts of the house, cleaning the cars on a weekly basis, etc. Some days he fell into bed with his fingers aching and swollen. At this rate he was sure he would develop arthritis.

And that posed another interesting round of questions. Tom had never been sick before with any of his previous owners. Except maybe having a cold that lasted for less than a week at a time, he had never been so ill before to be brought to the hospital. What if he broke a bone? What if he suffered a concussion or some other serious injury? How did the rules of healthcare apply to a slave?

He would eventually find out.

* * *

Master Cole liked things to be perfect and resented change. Tom did his best to make sure everything was right and stay on his Master’s good graces, but sometimes he made a mistake. A simple, human mistake.

He forgot to set his alarm one morning, being so tired the night before that it was lights out as soon as he was under his blankets. He didn’t realize his mistake until Master Cole was barging into his room and pulling him out of bed. He looked at the clock and with a sinking feeling in his stomach saw that it was already eight o’clock.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Master Cole asked. “Sleeping in on my time.”

“Master, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I swear.”

Master Cole pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time for your grovelling. Just get downstairs and do what you’re supposed to do.”

Tom stood. “But what about Sam, Master?”

“I’ll take care of him. Just get downstairs.”

“Yes, Master.”

Tom hurried to the kitchen. He’d never felt so bad and so terrified before. He whipped up a decent breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee in no time. He was still a bit frazzled by the time he handed Master his thermos before he went out the door. The look he got when the thermos was taken was a look of utter disappointment and controlled rage. He felt like an utter disappointment, a failure.

He went on with his day, determined to make everything right to make up for his mistake. Before Master Cole went to bed that night, he pulled Tom aside and said, “I’m not happy with your performance, Tom.”

Tom bowed his head. He didn’t know why he should hate himself. It was just a simple mistake, but he just felt terrible.

“I thought a slave with your experience should know better by now,” Master continued. “Was I wrong in buying you?”

It was a question directed towards Tom. “I am so sorry, Master. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“You’re right it won’t. Until you can stick to your schedule like the proper slave that I know you are, you are not allowed to sleep on your bed. Do I make myself clear?”

“But where will I—”

“You’ll stay in your room at night, obviously,” he said. “You’re just not allowed to use your bed. Got it?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.”

So that night after turning off the lights and locking the doors, Tom went to his room and changed into sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. He took the blankets from his bed and a pillow and laid it out on the floor next to it, bringing down his clock with him so that he could always keep track of the time. And just to be safe he kept the bedroom door open just a crack so that when someone got up he would wake up with their movement.

It was in the middle of the night that Tom realized why Master Cole took his bed away. It was because the floor was not comfortable by any means even on the carpet. Tom would wake every few hours because he just could not find the best position to sleep in. This would ensure that Tom always knew what time it was when he woke and to make sure that he would never miss his alarm ever again. It was a smart punishment, but after two weeks of no mattress, Tom’s back and neck began to pay for the abuse. He was also extremely tired the longer his punishment went on. But he kept at it, being that perfect slave for Master Cole. The punishment did end after those two weeks, and Tom was extremely grateful, thanking his Master profusely before finishing up his chores and going to bed.

The mattress was softer than he ever imagined. He fell asleep right away and took the lesson of the punishment to heart. Everything he had was a privilege. He’d do best to remember that fact.

Master Cole was slightly less forgiving than his previous owners. Tom would slip up every once in a while, sometimes forgetting something small, and Master Cole would always notice. And he was always ready for to mete out a punishment.

The common punishment was taking away one of Tom’s privileges, the bed being the most common. Other things included Tom’s few possessions—some days he wasn’t allowed to touch his books—to be able to go outside—even with the children he wasn’t allowed out. Mistress Lucy took care of them. And sometimes Tom wasn’t allowed to eat dinner at all. He would go to bed hungry if he really displeased his Master. The worst times were when Tom spoke out of turn, and Master Cole slapped him across the face, silencing Tom with that single blow and reminding him of his place. Thankfully, no one else was in the room to see this confrontation, which was probably why Master decided to punish him like this.

Tom kept his hands at his sides, cheek flaming hot from the abuse. Master Cole’s expression was that same controlled rage that carefully hid the red, hot anger within him.

“You just keep forgetting, don’t you?” Master said calmly. Tom did not reply, keeping his tongue firmly behind his teeth. Master took a step forward. “Maybe you need another lesson in learning to keep your fucking mouth shut. Now, what would I do?” He took another step forward, coming closer to Tom and boxing him in against the wall. “If people have a dog that doesn’t stop barking, they use a shock collar to make sure it keeps quiet. I can pick one up tomorrow if I want, put it around your neck and turn it on. Do you think that’ll work for you, Tom?”

After a prolonged gap of silence, Tom understood he was supposed to answer the question. “Yes, Master.”

“It’d be interesting to see you twitch when it goes off, but I think that’d be better punishment if I were the only one here. That wouldn’t be the best thing to have around the kids. No. That’s not the right punishment.” Mater Cole tapped his chin thoughtfully with one hand and ‘hmmed’ thoughtfully. “Nothing physical, I think. It wouldn’t be a nice sight to have you gagged all the time. I think that violates something.” He took a few more moments to think of an appropriate punishment. “Because I’m feeling merciful I think it’d be best that you just didn’t talk at all for the next few days. When I’m around I only want to hear ‘yes, Master’ and ‘no, Master.’ You are not here to make friends, Tom. You’d do best to remember that.”

“Yes, Master.”

Master Cole smiled and patted Tom’s smarting cheek. “See? Was that so hard to do?”

“No, Master.”

It was left at that. The entire week Tom remembered to keep quiet in Master Cole’s presence. He really didn’t want to find out how far Master Cole’s rage could go. He took the shock collar threat to heart. He had no desires to find out how it would feel to be shocked like an errant dog. Of course that was what he meant to these people, especially to Master Cole.

* * *

The first month and half to two months with the Millers was the worst. Tom didn’t understand how some things worked and often pissed off Master Cole by accident. But he became used to the new schedule and new duties. He loved caring for Sam, watching the little boy grow and play and babble. He loved reading and playing with Sarah, often being pull up to rest narrowly on her small bed so that they could both be comfortable together in order to read. Sarah took to Tom like a bird takes to flight. There was no doubt that she loved him, and that notion gave Tom a little joy in his otherwise dreary days.

Sarah was going to go to school for the first time in September, having turned five in August. She’d finally reached that age, but was more than a little nervous for when that first day of school came around. She had all the things she needed: a new backpack, new clothes, new hair accessories, and everything else kids needed at that age. As per their nightly routine, Tom was helping her into bed and taking out their chosen book. One of the _Clifford the Big Red Dog_ books.

“But I don’t want to go,” she said.

“I know you don’t. Not everyone likes school, but we all have to go to it. You might not like it in the beginning, but I’m sure you’ll love it eventually.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know anyone there.”

“Not now,” he said, “but you will. I’m sure you’re not the only one who’s nervous. I’m sure that you’ll meet great people at school tomorrow and make lots of friends. All you have to do is be your normal self.” Once he got her into bed, he took out the book and settled his long frame on the edge of the bed so that they could read the book together.

“Why can’t you come with me?” she asked.

“Because my place is here.”

“But why?”

“Because that is just how things are.” Trying to explain to a five year old what being a slave meant was a bit difficult. Would she even understand what being a slave meant? It wasn’t something taught about in schools. It was something your parents told you about and things you heard on the street. Sarah would learn soon enough, he supposed.

To pull her mind away from the more distressing matters, Tom began to read. The book put Sarah at ease and made it easier for her to fall asleep.

In the morning Tom went about his daily routine and woke Sarah up a bit earlier to fix her hair, get her dressed, and feed her breakfast. Master Cole gave her a few more hugs and kisses than usual that morning, promising that she was going to be fine and that he would see her when he got home from work. Mistress Lucy was up early as well. She had to walk Sarah to the bus stop in the morning, and Tom would come with them carrying Sam.

(He automatically assumed that taking Sarah to school every morning would be part of his chore list. Not that he minded. Making the short ten minute walk every morning was actually something he looked forward to.)

The walk was to a common bus stop at the corner. Others were there as well—a few kids going to school for their first time and older kids who were lamenting the loss of their freedom. They waited nearly ten minutes for the bus to arrive. Mistress Lucy sent Sarah off with a hug and kiss and Tom promised her that he would be there when she returned. She climbed the steps of the bus, and it drove off down the street momentarily.

The bus came back at three-twenty, and Sarah jumped at her mother with a big smile on her face and lots of stories to tell. She enjoyed her first day at school and couldn’t wait to go back. She told Tom about everything that happened during her day. Tom listened patiently and smiled when he heard that she had made friends. The first day of school was a success.

* * *

With the Millers Tom had to take the good with the bad. He learned to care for the kids as if they were his own, being able to witness those special moments privy to parents: Sam’s first words and steps, Sarah being able to write and read. He learned how to please his Master and Mistress. Master Cole liked it when he did what he was supposed to do and be that perfect slave he wanted. Mistress Lucy appreciated how helpful he was around the house, praising him for his work so that she could do things she wanted to do.

Some days it was difficult to do everything. Some days his muscles were too sore and his body protested when he had to get out of bed in the morning. There were also the times when what he did just wasn’t good enough for Master Cole and he would find one of his privileges taken away. But Tom carried on because there was nothing else he could do. He worked harder to please and took to stretching when moments allowed to relieve his aches. He adapted because that was the only thing he could do. It worked for him. Life with the Millers was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are going to be spending a lot of time with the Millers. That's all I'm going to say about that.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally looking up for everyone, but owning a slave is never a simple matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. With exams fast approaching my time for writing has decreased. I'll try to get a chapter up every week, but we'll see when we get there.

Getting his cast off is one of the greatest moments in Chris’s life. Finally he can walk around unimpeded and not hobble around from place to place on crutches. And he can finally drive himself to work with hsi newly repaired car, so that is also a bonus. The doctor still tells him to be careful when doing any strenuous activity. He should also take care when doing stretches since his leg hasn’t been used in over a month. He should expect to be a little wobbly for the next few days or so. Chris takes all of the information to heart. He has no wishes to wear another type of cast or brace. He’ll be sure to be very careful with his newly healed leg to avoid landing in the hospital once again.

When the cast comes off, this horrid stench is released. Seven weeks of not being able to wash properly surely adds up, and it is God awful. The doctor merely smiles in amusement at Chris’s reaction. And also his skin is all weird and wrinkly and covered in stuff.

“Just go home and take a bath,” the doctor says. “You’ve got nothing to worry about now. Just make sure you check up with us once more. We want to make sure there’s no stress on the bone.”

Chris nods. “Of course. Thank you very much.” They exchange farewells, and Chris is out the door and back into the parking lot where Elsa waits patiently.

“Well?” she says as he pulls the seatbelt over his chest and buckles it securely.

“All good,” he says with a large grin. He pulls up his pant leg to show off his now plaster free leg. “They see I need to come back for a checkup and then from there I should be fine.”

“What about physiotherapy? Did they say anything about that?”

Chris shakes his head as Elsa starts the car in order to take him back home for a shower and change of clothes before heading off to work. He can finally drive himself which is something he’s been waiting to do for quite a while. “Not really. He didn’t say much about it other than I should be careful in what I do for the next couple of weeks and do some stretches. He said it healed up nicely, so I assume that means I’m in the clear.”

“Well, that makes me very happy.”

They kiss once, twice, a third time in which Elsa bites his lower lip and pulls gently. Chris moans and pulls her in for one last kiss.

“The things I’m going to do to you tonight,” she whispers, smiling.

“Mmm. Can’t wait.”

They get home at a good time, and Chris heads right for the shower. He notices the differences in his legs, the right being slightly less built than the left. He takes care in washing it, getting all of the left over crud and stuff from the cast. He gets dressed and takes a look at himself in the mirror. Much better than before. Now he can get himself back into shape, work up the muscles in his legs to get them both strong again.

He goes down the stairs, taking it easy on his newly healed leg, and grabs some food and a travel mug full of coffee before he heads off to work.

“Be careful,” Elsa says as he climbs into his own car.

“I will,” he calls back. He will be very careful. It’s the first time he’s in the driver’s seat of a car by himself. He’s a little shaky, a little nervous about getting back onto the road. But this is just another step in the recovery, moving past those mental blocks that make him worry for another reason. He pulls away from the house and turns onto the road, shifting the car into drive. It does feel good to be able to drive himself again.

* * *

 

Chris gets home at a reasonable time and parks the car. He gets out and walks into the house, stepping out of his shoes as he steps onto the mat. Elsa is already gone to work, which means Tom and India are the only ones home right now.

He pours himself a glass of orange juice and refills it twice before pulling off his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. Tom comes down the stairs with India and smiles when he saw Chris.

“I didn’t hear you when you came in,” he says. “How was your day, sir?”

“As good as can be,” he replies, taking the squirming India from Tom’s hands so that he can hold her and press a wet kiss to her cheek. She settles in his arms.

“And how is your leg, sir?”

Chris lifts his now plaster free leg to show it off. “Still a bit sore, but it’s better than it was.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, sir.”

“I am, too.” Chris pulls out his shirt from its tucked into pants. He goes into the living room and settles onto the floor to watch some TV and play with India. Tom is still in the kitchen, clanking around and probably getting himself something to drink and eat. He comes into the living room carrying a mug of steaming something. It’s probably tea, Chris thinks. He’s noticed that Elsa has started buying more tea since Tom likes to drink it quite regularly.

Tom settles on the couch behind Chris. India crawls over Chris’s legs. She likes using him for her own personal jungle gym, fetching toys to bring back to him, crawling up his legs in order to get on his lap and get his attention. As she stumbles over him, Chris takes a look at Tom, something that he’s been doing a lot recently. He’s sitting on the couch with his legs curled up beside him. He’s holding his mug in both hands, eyes crinkling and mouth opening to laugh at something on the TV. His tongue is trapped between his teeth before it comes out to lick his lips. He takes a sip of his tea, and Chris turns his attention back to India, who is tapping his chest with one of her toys.

Now that Tom has had time to settle, Chris has realized several things about him. Tom is one of the kindest and most sincere people he has ever known. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is actually always in a good mood. Most of the time actually. He still gets this—Chris doesn’t really know what to call them—spells where he just carries on and seems to be miles away. But it’s better than the scared slave that showed up on their doorstep a month and half ago.

Tom finishes his tea when India starts to get fussy. Dinner time then. It’s leftover night, which is perfectly fine with Chris. Tom sets up India in her highchair and gets out her food to begin feeding her. Chris pulls out the leftovers and sets them on the counter while he pulls out two plates.

“What would you like, Tom?” he asks.

“Oh, um. It doesn’t matter. I’m not all that hungry right now anyway.”

Chris fills the plates and places one in the microwave. He takes out some utensils and puts them on the table before switching out the plates and setting a steaming one before Tom. He gets some glasses as well and pulls out the milk and sets that all on the table before going back to get his own dinner and sit down. In between feeding India, Tom eats what’s on his plate.

His eyes every once in a while drift to Chris before they look back down at his plate or to India. He’s going to ask something. Chris knows it. He’s picked up on Tom’s habits over the weeks. He gets shifty and really quiet when he wants to ask a question. He still has trouble asking for things that he needs or wants, but it’s better than total silence. He just needs a nudge every once in a while to get him going.

“Sir,” he says after a few minutes, wiping at India’s china with her bib. “I was . . . I was wondering if . . .” He drifts off slowly, a common habit that signals Chris to give him that nudge.

“Yes, Tom? Do you need something?”

Tom breathes deeply. “I was wondering if I could go for a run tonight. Just around the block. I won’t be gone long. Maybe an hour.”

Chris scrapes the remains of his dinner into a pile on his plate as he nods. “That’s fine with me. Do you need, like, shorts or running shoes?”

Tom shakes his head. “No, I’ve got some things, but thank you for asking.”

“It’s no problem.”

After dinner when the kitchen is cleaned up, Tom goes upstairs to change into something a little more freeing for running. Chris is going to start putting India to bed with a nice bath. Tom is down the stairs and out the door a little after six. He says he’ll be back by seven-thirty at the latest, and Chris tells him not to worry about the time and just have some fun.

By seven o’clock Chris is finally putting India to bed, settling her in her crib before going to his room to finally change out of his work clothes.

Tom is not back by seven-thirty, and Chris doesn’t mind. It’s about time Tom gets out and has a little time to do something he wants to do.

By eight o’clock Elsa is home. The hotel was pretty dead today, so she was let off early. She asks where Tom is, and Chris replies that he went for a run and should be back soon. (He’s almost been gone for two hours. Chris is starting to get worried.)

By nine o’clock both are sitting on the couch, waiting for Tom to come home, but something feels wrong to the both of them. Chris goes to pull on his shoes and drive around the block to see if he can find Tom. He comes back ten minutes with no good news. They need to get Tom a cellphone.

Twenty after nine the phone rings. Chris answers it right away. “Hello?”

“Hi. Is Chris Hemsworth there?”

“Speaking.”

“Hello, Mr. Hemsworth. I’m calling to inform you that we have found your slave IC-782 and have taken him to the nearest center.”

“You-you have him? What happened to him?”

“He triggered his boundary alarm, sir. We were making sure he wasn’t trying to run away.”

Chris knows that Tom would never run away. He wouldn’t have anything with him, and he’s much better off here than anywhere else at the moment. “Well, is he being brought back? Do I have to pick him up?”

“It’s standard procedure that we keep him for the night. You’ll be able to pick him up tomorrow whenever you come in. Do you have any more questions, sir?”

“No. No, I don’t. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Good night.”

“Goodnight.” He ends the call and sets down the phone. He puts his head in his hands and groans. “Shit. Fucking shit.”

“Chris, what is it?” Elsa asks off to his left. “Was that about Tom?”

Chris nods and pulls his hands away. “That was someone from the center. They thought Tom was trying to run away, so they found him and they took him to the center.”

“Are we getting him back, or do we have to do something else to get him?”

Chris shakes his head. “We can’t. It’s standard procedure that they keep him for the night and we get him tomorrow.”

“I have to start work at ten tomorrow and have some errands to run before that. And if I have to bring India away, then I won’t have time to pick him up, and neither will you.”

Chris scrubs his face with his hands. This is not what he needs right now. This is not what any of them need. “I’ll get him after work tomorrow then.” He adds a moment later, “Ah, fuck.”

Elsa leans against his shoulder, and they sit together in the silence. Chris’s mind is reeling, thinking about all the things that could be happening to Tom. Are they punishing him? Do they understand that it’s just a mistake? He doesn’t know, but he assumes that the word of a slave means nothing even if they are innocent. That’s just how things are.

It’s not easy settling down for the night for either of them. Neither feels like having sex tonight. The atmosphere just isn't there. Chris is too distracted, and Elsa is too worried about her husband and Tom. Tom has become something special to the both of them. They feel very responsible for him and want nothing more than just to give him a safe place to live; something he has not had in a long time. But somewhere they’ve failed him, and Chris cannot help but feel very guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tom just can't catch a break, can he?
> 
> As always, please leave your thoughts. I always want to hear what you guys thinks of this story.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom becomes trapped between the demands of his Master and the desires of his Mistress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the long wait. I have two more exams to write and then I am DONE! After this week I can get back to writing and finish this story. I have several more chapters planned. Thanks for all the comments so far!

As the months progressed, Tom settled in at the Millers. He was no longer surprised by anything, but learned to expect everything. Sometimes they would have friends or family over, and he was required to be nothing more than a quiet presence. No one did anything out of the ordinary when he was helping in the kitchen or looking after the kids. Nor did they say anything about him. They ordered him around. ‘Can you get this for me?’ ‘Can you do this for me?’ Simple requests that Tom had no trouble in accomplishing. Some were nice. Some were indifferent. And others just didn’t care but snap at Tom to hurry up. He did everything without hesitation, hoping that his Master wouldn’t find fault with his services.

Sarah enjoyed school immensely and talked to Tom about everything under the sun when she came home. She would bring home new books for them to read and would show Tom what she’d made in art class. Some of the drawings and paintings she made were specifically for Tom. He had a growing pile in his room that made him smile. At least one person liked him in this house.

Sam was starting to walk by Tom’s first winter spent with the Millers. It was a milestone to watch and one of those private and special moments that the parents should be watching. But Cole was at work and Lucy was out when Sam took his first teetering steps. Tom didn’t say anything about it. He felt that it should be a moment the parents should watch and not something that a slave reports. Sam took his ‘first steps’ two nights later in the living room with the family surrounding him while Tom was in the kitchen. At least he didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

He began to notice subtle changes in Master Cole’s behaviour over the many months. He was always an uptight man to begin with, but it began to evolve into something worse. It seemed like Tom could do nothing to please his Master and that everything he did was somehow flawed. Master Cole was nitpicky all the time, but Tom noticed when some days would be worse than others.

It was clear that Master Cole was stressed from work. His jaw would be clenched and he would always be tapping his foot when sitting down. He was agitated on these days, easily offended even. When Tom and he were the only ones in the room, Tom was sure to keep his mouth shut and his eyes down. But his Master still sought to work out his anger, and the nearest target was always Tom.

He was not an overly abusive man, not a man who found satisfaction in beating someone to a bloody pulp. He loved his family dearly and would do nothing to hurt them. But Tom was a slave who deserved nothing. He was a target for Master Cole’s misplaced aggression. One who would keep his mouth shut and accept whatever his Master gave him.

Once, Tom’s wrist was seized in a harsh grip. Master had _squeezed_ the bones together, grinding them together and wouldn’t let go, not for a long time. Tom had dropped a glass on accident. He was drying it, and it had simply slipped from his grasp. It broke upon the hard tiles of the kitchen floor, and at first he thought it would be no big deal. Dishes break all the time. They can be easily replaced, but Master Cole didn’t like accidents. He demanded perfection.

So while Tom found a dust pan to clean up the mess, Master Cole came into the kitchen quietly to watch as the slave got down on his knees to sweep up the shards of glass and dispose of them in the garbage can. Before he could finish, Master Cole seized Tom’s left wrist and gripped it tightly. The brush he was holding clattered to the ground in the strong and harsh grip.

“What is this?” Master asked calmly.

“I dropped a glass, Master,” Tom replied.

“You’re breaking my stuff now?” He twisted and tightened his grip and crushed the delicate bones in Tom’s thin wrist.

Tom gasped. “I-I di-didn’t mean to, M-Master.”

Master Cole looked at him for a very long minute before kicking away the brush and dustpan. He let go of Tom’s wrist and looked to the mess and said, “Go on. Clean it up.”

The brush and dustpan were out of reach, and Tom had an inkling that he wouldn’t be allowed to use them. Punishment.

He delicately pushed the shard of glass together in a pile near the garbage can before him. The larger pieces were easier to handle and throw away. It was the little pieces that worried him. His wrist was throbbing from the abuse, but he picked up the pieces of shattered glass and put all of them away. The floor would still need to be swept or vacuumed to make sure all the invisible shreds of glass were gone, but the majority of it was gone. And completed with no harm to his person, so that was considered a plus as well.

“Good work,” Master said, which was probably the only time he actually complemented Tom. “You can go back to work now.” He left the kitchen after getting a drink.

Tom made extra sure that all the glass was gone before resuming his duties. And throughout the night the throbbing in his wrist persisted. It was a little bit swollen the next day, and he knew it would have to be seen to. Swelling was never good. He thought of asking Master Cole that morning, but was too afraid to anger him. Instead he went to his Mistress who he knew was the one with the kinder heart.

“Mistress,” he said quietly as he brought her breakfast to her room. “May I ask something?” Sam brushed past his leg to jump on the bed with his mother. Sarah was off to school, so he knew it was the best time to ask.

“What is it, Tom?”

He set down the tray on the small table next to her bed. “I’ve hurt my wrist, Mistress.” His left hand was shaking a bit as he lifted his hand to show her. “I think I need some help.”

She looked at his swollen joint and gaped. “Oh my God, Tom! What did you do?” She reached over to inspect it more closely.

He couldn’t very well tell her that her husband was the cause for this. He came up with a plausible solution and prayed that she didn’t see through his lie. “I tripped when I was going to bed last night. I think I landed on it wrong.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Go put some ice on it, and I’ll take you to the hospital to get it checked out later today, all right?”

He nodded. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

He left her room and did just as he was told, taking a few ice cubes from the freezer and wrapping them up in a towel for his wrist. As promised, an hour and a half later Mistress Lucy had taken him to the hospital with Sam strapped into his car seat in the back of the vehicle. Mistress was very kind to him, taking care of Sam when she knew he wasn’t able to use his wrist much. She led him into the hospital and made sure he was seen to.

An x-ray and a brace for his wrist later, they left the hospital and returned home. Tom was supposed to keep his brace on for at least a week. He could take Tylenol whenever the pain was bad, but other than that the wrist should be able to heal on its own.

When they entered the house, Tom had the intentions of getting right to work. He had wasted enough time as it was, but Mistress Lucy stopped him before he could get started. She told him not to worry about his chores and just take it easy for the day. For the next several days in fact. She didn’t want him to exhaust himself with his injury. She said he should do what he felt like he was able to do and that she would help with the rest.

“You just have to ask, Tom,” she said. “You don’t have to be perfect. Not everything has to be done at once.”

Lucy was clearly the opposite of Cole.

Ever since that day, seeing Tom with his brace, his Mistress seemed to make more of an effort to look after him. She defended him against Master Cole when he didn’t complete all of his chores or for the fact that Mistress Lucy paid for his x-ray and the visit to the hospital and everything else. _Of course_ Master Cole didn’t think a slave was worth spending money on. Tom was hardly surprised, but he was surprised by the way his Mistress defended him. She would say that in order for Tom to work efficiently he would have needed medical treatment for his wrist. She stood up for him when he could not.

They grew closer after that. When Master Cole was gone at work and they only had Sam to look after, Tom was able to relax in her presence. She took a deeper interest of him, asking questions, talking She made him feel safe him, including him in her interests. When she had friends over, he was allowed to sit with them as long as he kept a close watch over Sam. He felt more like a person in her presence and less like a commodity. She made him safe for once.

He should’ve expected something to change in their relationship the more time they spent in each other’s company. There were fleeting touches when she would enter the kitchen and wander around him, reaching for something instead of asking for it so she could get close to him. She spent an increasing amount of time with him as the months passed by. They didn’t do as much when Cole was home, but their friendship was something Tom cherished at that time. He found that he didn’t mind Mistress Lucy’s hand on his arm, leaning in to chase her touch. As a slave he had no friends, so he latched onto Mistress Lucy’s kindness and friendly gestures until one night it came to a climax.

It began when Master Cole and Mistress Lucy began to drift apart. They weren’t as close, weren’t as ‘lovey-dovey.’ There was something different between the two and perhaps that’s what drove Mistress Lucy to find comfort in Tom.

After taking care of the kids and seeing them off to bed, he began to finish his nightly duties. He was in the kitchen sometime around nine o’clock that night. He was washing the dishes that couldn’t fit in the dishwasher, plunging his hands in the hot, soapy water. It was still a little bit light outside. The days were growing longer, meaning warmer nights and more sunshine.

Mistress Lucy came into the kitchen and served herself a glass of water, skirting around Tom to get at the filtered tap. Tom swirled his hands in the water, fishing around for the dish rag.

“Cole isn’t sure when he’s going to be back,” Mistress said. “He got held up at work. Some big project that needs to be presented tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Honestly, I think that man is married more to his job than he is to me sometimes. Do you know how many times this month he’s had to stay at the office overnight? Five. Five times during this month alone. Honestly.” She shook her head and drank some more water, which clearly wasn’t satisfying her, so she dumped the glass in the sink and served herself some wine instead. Tom kept at his task.

Mistress Lucy stayed in the kitchen with him, leaning against the counter and talking to him. She talked a lot about Master Cole, telling him about all the things that he did that annoyed her. Tom knew their marriage wasn’t a perfect one. It became increasingly apparent over the years. The love was there, yes, but it wasn’t a strong type of love. They had problems that every couple had, but they let their problems fester and rot, turning into something mean. They could have a close to perfect marriage if they just worked their problems out, communicated to each other. But matters like these were never simple, so Tom kept all of his thoughts to himself.

Until Mistress Lucy put a hand on his arm, her grip light and warm and _tender._

He stopped washing and pulled his hands out placed them on the edge of the sink. He watched her carefully, trying to figure out her motive and course of action. Over the past few months, her touches had become less accidental and more with a designed purpose. Now he was starting to put the picture together.

“Were you married before?” she asked.

He kept his eyes down. Didn’t want to give her anything to say that he was for this. “No, Mistress. I wasn’t.”

“I bet you would’ve made a woman very happy someday.” Her thumb was stroking his arm. The touch was nice. Tom knew that he should do something to stop this. The last thing he should be doing was getting cozy with Mistress Lucy. But she was the first person to show him close-ish intimacy since Mistress Hori. And he was _so_ missing those gentle touches.

Looking back he should’ve stopped himself. But in that moment he wanted to _lose_ himself.

His Mistress’s lips were soft upon his own. His first kiss in seven years. His wet and wrinkly hands rested on her shoulders at fist before they slid down her back to hold her close.

She pulled away first and looked up at him. Tom’s heart fluttered away in his chest. “Tonight you will serve me.”

Tom swallowed, face feeling hot. “Yes, Mistress,” he said and let her take him by the hand and lead her upstairs into her bedroom.

Their clothes fell into a pile upon the floor. The lamp casted a soft orange and yellow glow over the room. They fell onto the bed together, touching and kissing, never letting go. They fumbled at first, laughing at little, and the tension began to drain away. It was something new for the both of them, and they revelled in every new experience.

Tom went down on her first, using his fingers to bring her pleasure and to remember what having sex was actually like. He stroked her, fucked her, spread her. Her breathy moans from above him proved that what he did pleased her.

Mistress Lucy had enough of teasing and pulled him back up for a kiss. He rolled onto his back, holding her close as she straddled him. One of her hands closed around his member, gently stroking that was slowly maddening. Her thumbnail caught on the slit, and he jerked up in her touch.

“Please,” he said.

Mistress smiled down at him. “Please, what?”

He knew that she was enjoying this, enjoyed having him beneath her to obey her every desire. To please her. And Tom couldn’t care less. Her teasing strokes were driving him insane. She alternated between fast and slow strokes, hard and soft, sometimes squeezing the base to hear him groan and see him arch.

“ _Fuck me!_ ”

She grinned, lifting herself up and positioning the tip of his member at the opening of her entrance. She sunk down upon him, their pleased moans filling the room. She controlled the pace. He let his hands wander the soft and near flawless plains of her skin. They skimmed her sides, danced along her back, across her ribs, and up to her breasts.

It was like they were new lovers, discovering the hidden secrets of each other’s bodies. It was sweet, not hurried, not harsh, but in every way fulfilling and pleasing. Tom had forgotten what this type of pleasure had felt like. A hand never did the real thing any justice.

Once they had come to completion, their skin slick with sweat, they lay down next to each other, panting and sated. Mistress Lucy was smiling. Her arms wound around his neck pulling him in close for a kiss. Lost in the afterglow of sex, Tom nor Mistress Lucy heard the creak of the door opening until it was too late.

Tom broke the kiss and looked over his shoulder to see Master Cole standing in the threshold.

And everything went still and quiet. Mistress Lucy gathered the blankets around her to cover herself. Tom got up from the bed and didn’t know if kneeling or prostrating himself before Master Cole would appease him. The pleas were falling out of his mouth as soon as Master took one step into the room.

“Master. Master, please forgive me. I didn’t—”

Master Cole silenced him with a slap and forced him up against the wall. “You fucking piece of shit slave! _Who do you think you are?!”_

“Cole,” Lucy said. “Just listen to me. He didn’t—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off. “This slave needs to learn his _fucking place in this house_. I am tired of dealing with his mediocre shit jobs. And then he thinks he can go and fuck my wife? Thinks he’s part of the family now? Well, I am done with this. I am done with him.”

With a tight grip on Tom’s arm, he pulled him away from the wall and steered him towards the door.

“Cole, just stop for one moment and think.”

“Lucy, no. He needs to be taught a lesson.”

“But he didn’t do—”

“No,” Master said sternly. “We’ll talk about this later.” He turned to Tom and pushed him out of the bedroom closing the door softly behind them. “And as for you, my little _whore,_ ” he hissed hotly into Tom’s ear, “I think it’s time you and I have a heart to heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two cliffhangers! I am sorry, but this is where the chapter ends. Next we will get back to Chris and see how he gets Tom back from the center.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long wait, Chris finally gets Tom back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams can suck it. I am done school. HALLELUJAH! Now work starts on Monday AND we're moving soon. So that'll keep me occupied for the next while, but writing is coming along nicely. Some chapters are pre-written. I just have to edit them. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the support and for sticking with me. You guys are great.

Chris has to work and so does Elsa. Since Tom is under Chris’s name, he has to go to the center that has Tom and probably fill out some release forms in order to get him back. He won’t be able to get him until after five which is when he gets off of work. That means Tom will be in the center for nearly twenty-four hours. It makes Chris feel sick with worry. He doesn’t know what procedures they take with runaway slaves. That’s kept on the down low, he suspects. No one needs to know how they keep slaves in line. But still. It’s Tom. He would never do anything bad when a few months ago he was terrified of a broken glass. What does he have to run away to or for? Tom has nothing outside of their house. Nowhere to go either.

But Chris gets to sleep that night, waking up early to count down the hours until he can get Tom back. Both he and Elsa are worried about him. They want to do right by him. They want to give him something back after everything was taken from him. They are protective of him. Sure. But they also know Tom can handle himself. It’s just when these types of situations happen that they begin to worry. Neither of them knows what happens behind the closed doors of the center. They just want Tom back home where he’s safe from a world that is stacked against him.

Chris goes to work and goes about his day like everything is completely normal. He keeps looking at his clock every chance he gets. He’s distracted and probably gets less work done than normally, but he gets it done. He gets through his day and gets into his car and drives to the center. He’s there by quarter after five.

He enters the center and heads immediately for the front desk. He waits until the receptionist turns to answer him.

“Hello,” she says with a smile. “How may I help you today?”

“Hi. Um. I had a call yesterday, saying that my . . . slave was picked up and brought here because they thought he was trying to run.”

“All right. Can you give me his number?”

“Yep. IC-782.”

She looks something up on her computer screen. “Yes. We do have IC-782 here. You’ll have to fill out a few forms before he’s allowed to be released. When you’re done, give them back to me, and then you’ll be asked a few questions before getting your slave back.” She hands him a clipboard with a pen.

Chris goes to sit down in some of the chairs they have in the front lobby. He’s the only one here, which is good. That means he’ll be seen to right away.

The papers he has to sign mostly involve his signatures. It’s a lot of reading that involves mostly circumstantial bullshit that he can’t be bothered to read into detail. It probably involves some form of him taking responsibility for any damages or something like that. That’s usually how these things work, right?

He returns the clipboard and the pen to the receptionist, and she takes them from him with a smile.

“All right then,” she says. “I’ll just get these filed, and someone will see you in a few minutes.”

Chris returns to his seat and mindlessly flips through a stack of magazines that sits on a table off to his right. He’s seen to right away and is lead down a hallway to an office. He sits down on the offered chair and waits for the man to finish checking over the forms he just signed.

“All right, Mr. Hemsworth,” he says, setting aside the forms. “I understand you’re here to get your slave back, correct?”

“Yes. Can I get him back today?”

“Well, that’s the question. Would you like to keep him or sell him?”

“Sell him?” Chris asks. “Why would I want to sell him?”

“Understand me, Mr. Hemsworth, that not many owners take to these types of crimes lightly. They’d rather sell the slave they have and get a new one than deal with someone who’s unruly.”

“Well, of course I want to keep him. And I’m not exactly sure why he was picked up in the first place. We didn’t get many details over the phone last night.”

“Right. Well, you see, Mr. Hemsworth, the cuff on our slaves is a transmitter. It’s hooked up to the local grid so we can keep an eye on them at all times. That way if they run, we know where they are and can get them before they escape. They only get flagged if they go outside their designated zone.”

“And what’s that?”

“The standard zone is a five mile radius from where the slave lives. That’s set up in your forms, and it can be changed at any time if you ever need it to be. Usually if a slave goes outside of their zone, their owners usually let us know ahead of time so their slave isn’t flagged.”

“And they’re automatically picked up and taken here?” he asks. “Right away?”

The man nods. “Yes, and then they’re brought back to the center and held until their owner comes and picks them up.”

“And what happens to them after that?”

“Well, sir, they are dealt with appropriately and given back to their owner whenever they come to release them.”

In other words, Tom was most likely punished. Fucking great.

“Before I get him back, can I just turn that five mile radius thing into nothing?”

“Do you wish to keep him housebound then?”

Chris shakes his head, appalled that that is even an option. “No, not at all. I don’t want a limit at all. He can go wherever he wants, and no one is going to pick him up and take him back here. Is that clear?”

The man nods. “Yes, sir, that can be done. I just want you to know that if your slave does something bad and is picked up again, it will be on your head and the damages will be taken care of by you.”

Chris nods. “I get that completely. Now, can I have my slave back?”

He has to wait in the office for a few minutes while everything else is taken care of. He waits a total of ten minutes until the man, another employee, and Tom walk into the office. Tom’s head is down and waits against the wall in standard resting position.

“All right, Mr. Hemsworth,” the man says. “Here is IC-782. Everything is filled out and filed and the distance restriction will be taken care of within a day or two.”

“Thank you.”

Chris gets up and walks out of the office with Tom following behind him. He looks behind him at Tom and notice that he’s walking funny like he can’t keep his balance or is a little tipsy. He slows his steps and puts a steadying hand on Tom’s arm.

“Tom,” he says quietly. “Are you all right?”

He nods too quickly. “Yes, Master, I am.”

Chris frowns at being called ‘Master’ again. Either Tom was scared shitless into assuming proper slave etiquette, or he’s doing it because they’re in a place like this. Chris likes to think it’s the latter.

They walk outside of the center at Tom’s pace because it’s clear to Chris that he’s in some sort of pain. They get into the car, and Chris drives away from the center at quarter to six. Tom is slumped in the seat with his arms covering his stomach protectively like he might throw up. He says nothing and is partially asleep by the time they make it home just before the clock hits six. Elsa is home from work with India and welcomes them both home. They’ll most likely be having a late dinner tonight or just opt for takeout. Takeout sounds much better to Chris right now.

“Is everything all right now?” Elsa asks as they kick off their shoes and walk through the house to the living room.

“I hope so,” Chris says as he sits down on the couch and strips off his tie and rolls up his sleeves. He’ll get dressed into the something more comfy later. Right now he just needs to sit down. “Didn’t even need to pay for any fees. All I had to do was sign a few forms and answer a few questions before I was allowed to take him back.”

“And what was the problem?” she asks, settling down on the cushion next to him.

“Apparently he ran past this invisible boundary line and was too far from our house. They thought he was running and picked him up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but I took care of that while I was there. No more boundary line, so he won’t be picked up again if he goes running.”

Tom is standing at the edge of the room and takes a few steps forward. “Is it all right if I go up to my room for a while, sir?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll call you down for dinner.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tom, although rather stiffly, makes his way up the stairs to the second floor.”

“Right,” Elsa says. “Dinner. I’m thinking Chinese. You?”

“Chinese sounds amazing right now.”

It’s been a busy and stressful day for everyone. It’s nice to have the food brought them without any preparation. It shows up in half an hour, and they break out a few plates.

“I’ll go get Tom,” Elsa says and goes upstairs to get him.

India, safe in her high chair, is waving her arms about and ‘speaking’ to Chris in long drawn out syllables of gibberish.

“Daddy’s coming,” he says, carrying over the food to the table and popping open the containers. He has her food with him and a small spoon. Everything is ready to go when Elsa returns with no Tom.

“He’s tired,” she says. “He’ll come down when he’s ready.”

They eat together and talk lightly about their days. India is fed and stops putting up a fuss. She’s cleaned up and full and will soon be put to bed. Elsa cleans up the kitchen, keeping a plate and some food out for Tom when he comes down. Chris puts India to bed in the meantime and afterwards dresses into something a little more comfortable. Elsa is standing at Tom’s door, looking to see if he’s all right. Chris goes to join her because he’s worried about Tom too. He’s said nothing all night and seems to have been set back a few steps in terms of adjusting to their house.

“Tom,” she says. “Are you all right?”

Chris looks in through the gap and sees that Tom is curled up on his side facing the wall.

“I’m fine,” he replies, sounding like he could use a drink or something. “Thank you for your concern, miss.”

“Do you want me to bring up your dinner then? We ordered in. Chinese.”

“I’m fine, miss. I’ll come down soon.”

They retreat back to the living room. True to his word Tom does come down. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt and is still moving stiffly, but he gets to the kitchen all right, and they can soon hear sounds of him moving around and getting himself some dinner. There’s the rumble of the microwave next and the beeping afterwards. And then a plate smashing onto the ground followed by a quiet and drawn out _‘shhhhhhit.’_

Elsa gets up to investigate. “Tom? Are you all right?”

Tom’s voice is too quiet and too high pitched for Chris to hear. He’s distraught, obviously. Chris thought they were past the distress over a broken plate, but apparently he’s wrong. Something is really, really wrong this time. He gets up to investigate.

There is a smashed plate of food on the ground, and Tom and Elsa are by the sink. Elsa is running Tom’s hand under cold water. A burn then. All right. That makes more sense, but Tom is shaking and leaning against the sink like he might fall down at any time.

Chris manoeuvers around the mess to the closet and pulls out the broom dust pan. He cleans up the mess and wipes the floor clear from any remaining residue.

It’s not a serious burn. Only a slight redness that will disappear in a few days, but Tom still seems upset. Really, really upset. He tries speaking. “I’m—I—I don’t—” His knees buckle, and he falls to the ground. Chris is there in a flash to catch him, but Tom is all dead weight and sends them both to the ground.

“I got you, Tom,” Chris says. “I’ve got you.” He has the intent of trying to get Tom onto his feet and onto a chair, but Tom has other ideas.

He bursts into tears and curls in on himself. Chris has no idea what to do or why this is happening, so he wraps his arms around Tom and just holds him close. He looks at Elsa for some help or something, but she seems just as shocked as he is. This is not something they expected. Something happened to Tom at the center, and it seems to have scared him deeply.

Tom brings his arms up to wrap them around Chris so they are flush together. He’s mumbling something into Chris’s shoulder where he’s wetting his shirt with tears. “’M sorry,” he says. “ _Sorrysorrysorry._ ”

“It’s all right, Tom. It’s all right.” But Chris just cannot console him. So he settles for just holding Tom against him and rubbing his back and speaking softly to him. It takes a very long while to get him to settle down so he’s not heaving with every sob.

Once he’s calmed down, Elsa serves him a glass of water. He drinks, and Chris continues to hold him close because it’s very clear that he does not have the strength in him to sit up on his own. His hands are shaking, and he spills a little. Eventually they get him on his feet and into the living room so he can sit down on something comfortable. Elsa makes sure there’s more water on the coffee table for him.

“Are you all right, Tom?” she says, perching on the arm rest and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

Tom leans into her, puts his head in his hands, and rubs at his eyes. He sniffles a little bit, obviously still bothered about something. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’m just . . . I’m _so sorry._ ”

“What are you sorry for, Tom?”

“For-for running. For leaving. For not coming back.”

That catches Chris’s attention. Tom is blaming _himself_ for this, that it’s his fault. But it’s Chris’s. He didn’t read the whole contract. He didn’t know that there was a boundary line for slaves. If he had, he would’ve warned Tom, told him not to go too far before he figured out how to deal with the boundary line.

“Tom,” he says. “This isn’t your fault. You don’t have to be sorry about anything.”

“But, but I tried to run and—”

“Did you?” Elsa asks. “Try to run?”

Tom looks up at her, teary eyed and still shaking a bit. “I don’t . . .” He trails off before shaking his head. “No. I just thought that—”

“Thought that Chris and I assumed you ran away?”

Tom nods miserably and doesn’t look anyone in the eye.

“Tom, we are never going to blame you for anything that you do.”

“How can you trust me after all that I’ve done?” He manages to look up at her and then at Chris in turn. “I’ve broken your dishes. I don’t get up on time. I run too far. I’m supposed to be better than _this._ ”

“We don’t expect you to be perfect,” Chris says. “It was my mistake. I should’ve taken the time to read over the contract. This shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Tom. I should’ve paid more attention to the situation.”

Tom doesn’t reply and folds his hands, resting his chin atop them. There are a few moments of silence until Elsa asks him if he’s all right now, if there’s anything they can do for him.

“Do you need something to eat still?” she asks after getting no response from Tom. “I can go get you some food right now and bring it here for you to eat.”

Tom nods, and Elsa goes into the kitchen. Chris follows her because there’s something he needs to discuss with her.

There’s a new plate of food in the microwave. Chris and Elsa stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to each other.

“There’s something wrong with him,” he says quietly. “He seemed like he was hurting when I picked him up. I think something happened to him at the center.”

“Do you think they hurt him?” she asks.

“I’m not putting it past them. Why would they hold him over night if that weren’t the case?”

The microwave beeps. Elsa takes the plate out, and Chris hands her some cutlery for Tom. She carries the food while Chris gets a pitcher of water. The glass on the coffee table is empty, and the way Tom drank suggests that he’s dehydrated.

They sit down. They watch him eat. It’s quiet in the room expect for the TV. Elsa is watching Tom more closely now that they suspect he’s hurt. He’s still dressed in the clothes from yesterday. There aren’t any bruises on his arms or legs, but Chris remembers the way he held his arms over his stomach on the way home.

Tom eats quickly. His plate is empty and half the pitcher of water is gone with several minutes. Chris hopes that Tom will tell them what happened so that they can help him in some way. He doesn’t feel right just sitting here, knowing that Tom is hurt and that he can do something to help him. But Chris doesn’t want to pressure Tom into doing something he’ll feel uncomfortable doing. He knows he has to ask because that is the right thing to do. He needs to know.

“Tom, are you feeling all right?”

Tom sets the plate aside and settles back into the couch cushions. “Why do you ask, sir?”

“I just want to know if you’re all right now. I noticed that when we left the center you weren’t looking all that good. You can tell us if you need anything.” He tries to say everything gently and as non-pressuring as possible. If Tom wants to tell them what happened, it will be under his terms.

“Did something happen to you?” Elsa asks with that same gentle, caring tone as always.

The caring words and genuine concern must’ve pushed Tom over the edge because he’s crying again. It’s more like silent tears falling from his eyes, but he seems to understand—finally—that Chris and Elsa care about him, care about his physical condition, care about his emotional condition. They just _care_.

“No one likes it when a slave does something bad, miss,” he says. “A bad slave has to learn from their mistakes somehow.”

He tells them very quietly with brief pauses in between what happened at the center. It breaks Chris’s heart, and Elsa has her own shocked and appalled expression on her face. Tom was taught a lesson in obedience. Since they thought he tried to run away, they forced him to stand still in standard position for the hours he was with them. He had very few breaks in which he could rest his legs, which would explain why he was walking funny when they left. He says if he fell the handlers were no strangers in administrating a ‘correction technique.’ He has bruises all over his torso. They’re all covered by clothing so it’ll be an out-of-sight-out-of-mind sort of thing, but that still doesn’t excuse the outright abuse Tom suffered at their hands. (Chris idly wonders if he can file some sort of complaint against this. This is just wrong.)

When Tom finishes his story, he adds, “I’m sorry.” To which Elsa responds, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Tom.”

“I know. I know,” he says. “It’s just that—I don’t know. I just feel compelled, and I have to do everything a certain way, and I just don’t _know anymore._ I don’t know what to do anymore.” Tom sniffs and rubs at his eyes.

To see how deep the training in Tom has affected him makes Chris feel uneasy. It explains why it’s been more difficult than he expected to have Tom settle in their house. It’s ingrained into him that he must be grateful for every kind act bestowed upon him, that he must apologize for every wrong action of his and expect punishment. It’s really fucked up.

Once he’s found his voice, Chris asks, “Is there anything we can do for you, Tom?”

“If-if I could get some Advil or Tylenol, that’d be nice. My legs are—I’m quite sore. All over actually.”

Elsa nods. “We can do that. And I’m drawing you a bath for you to relax, okay?”

He nods and smiles a little, shyly. “Thank you, miss.”

Elsa heads upstairs to the bathroom to get the bath drawn up. Chris helps Tom to his feet because he’s still wobbly and looking exhausted. Once he’s in the bathroom that is hot from the steam of the water, they help him out of his clothes. It’s surprising to Chris that Tom is not bashful about this at all. He’s not blushing or trying to cover himself up before them. He takes it in stride and allows himself to be helped into the tub for the warm water to soothe his sore muscles. There are bruises all over his torso and back, all expertly placed so it’ll only give him minor discomfort without disrupting his work ethics.

Chris gets the aspirin from the medicine cabinet and a glass they always keep in the bathroom after filling it with some water. He sets it on the edge of the bath tub, and they leave Tom to it, backing out of the bathroom.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Just take it easy, Tom,” Chris says.

“I will, sir.”

They leave him to soak for a while, making sure he knows that if he needs _anything_ to come and ask them. He’s still not all that comfortable with open conversation or asking questions, but he’s getting better.

Elsa goes up to check on him a half hour later and finds him fast asleep. The warm water was probably that last nail in the coffin. They help him out of the tub before he can drown and get him all dried up and dressed into sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. The fatigue has taken hold of him as they get him to bed and under the covers. He groans and frowns as he stretches out his aching body on the bed.

“Take the day off tomorrow, Tom,” Elsa says, smoothing out the blankets and tucking them around his body. “You deserve a day to sit down and relax.”

Tom licks his lips, and his eyelids flutter a bit. “Are you sure, miss?”

“Yes, Tom. I am.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Elsa smiles and drifts out the room, leaving Chris behind. He stays for a moment, making sure Tom is okay. Totally and completely okay before he leaves. He never expected to have grown so protective over Tom. He takes it a serious offense that someone has hurt him _and that there was nothing he could do to stop it._ There’s also the fact that this was done behind Chris’s back without his consent or knowledge. It’s not nice to know that this is happening to other people as well.

He’s just about to leave when Tom reaches out and grabs Chris’s wrist, tugging him a little closer to the edge of the bed. “Thank you, sir.”

“What for?”

Tom heaves a sigh and closes his eyes. The grip on Chris’s wrist goes slack. “For coming back,” he says.

“I’m never going to leave you. Ever.” He means it.

“Thank you, sir.” His hands drops, and Chris tucks it back under the blankets with the rest of him.

“Goodnight, Tom,” he says before walking out the room quietly. Tom replies with a soft groan and is fast asleep soon after.

He joins Elsa in their room, and they get ready for bed together. They talk a little before settling down on the bed. They kiss and settled against one another, becoming that warm and familiar weight that each is used to. The day is done. Tom is home and safe and everything is as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for your input! I hope to post soon.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole teaches Tom a lesson in a manner of respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm so sorry for such the long wait. My family moved and we have yet to get internet at the house. I'm hoping for next week, but the company we're going with is small and it's taking forever. But I briefly have internet, so I though I'd give you guys a little something. 
> 
> Good news, though. I have nothing but time to write. So I've got a few chapters written and ready to go. Which is good news for you guys, because then I can update a little faster.
> 
> So enjoy! I know you guys have been waiting for this chapter for a little while.
> 
> WARNINGS: violence and minor sexual abuse.

Tom was none too gently hauled from the bedroom and down the stairs. He nearly fell down if it weren't for Master’s tight grip on his arm. He was taken out to the backyard through the deck door. From there he was tossed down onto the grass. He remained on his hands and knees, almost curled into a ball. Perhaps if he remained in such a submissive position long enough, showing Master Cole how insignificant he was to him, that maybe—just maybe—Master Cole wouldn’t see him as worth the trouble.

But it was never going to be that simple. Master Cole was absolutely _seething._

The first blow was a kick delivered to Tom’s stomach. He was nearly winded and ended up on his side. Another kick was delivered between his legs. If he wasn’t winded then, he sure was now.

Master Cole said nothing as he dropped down and proceeded to beat Tom into a bloody pulp. When he seemed to have spent all his furious energy, he pulled away from Tom, who couldn’t do much but wheeze.

“Fucking piece of shit!” Master said. “ ** _Who do you think you are?_ ** What gives you the right to make you think that you can take advantage of _my wife?_ You are _mine,_ you hear me?”

It was a question for Tom to answer. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”

“Oh, you’re not sorry,” he said. “Not yet. But you will be.” Master Cole spat on him and went back into the house. The deck door closed with a sort of finality.

Tom thought that the deck door might be locked, and he was right when he managed to get himself onto the deck. He ached absolutely everywhere. Between his legs, his ribs, and all over his face. He was pretty sure he had a black eye, a split lip, and his nose was bleeding. He must be a sight for sure.

Naked as he was, he could not get comfortable enough to sleep. He was huddled in a corner on the deck, knees to chest with arms snaked around them. The days were warmer, but the nights were still cool. Not only was it physically impossible for him to sleep, his mind kept him awake by running scenarios of what might happen to him in the days to come. He didn’t know what Master Cole would do to him now. Was it in his rights to dispense any form of punishment since he was Tom’s owner? Maybe. Tom had no idea what was written in his contract as a slave. All he knew was that he was a slave and that his word meant nothing to his Master.

It was no secret or surprise that Master Cole was a possessive man. He liked things the way they were. Tom was his. He was bought under Master Cole’s name and belonged to him only. Tom shouldn’t have indulged in Mistress Lucy’s desires. He should’ve said no, denied his own need for a warm body to lie beside. But he was a slave, supposed to obey every order. He had trouble trying to figure out what orders he was supposed to listen to. Was it his Master’s orders or any free man’s orders that he was supposed to listen to? He didn’t know and was now paying for it as a result of his actions.

He did not sleep, but watched the sun rise over the tops of the trees and listened to the bird songs of the early morning. The deck door slid open, and Master Cole walked out. He stood a few feet away from Tom, holding a bundle of clothes. He said nothing, staring down at Tom with an unspoken command.

Tom crawled forward and lowered his head so that he could kiss the tops of Master Cole’s shoes. (Shoes that Tom shined regularly, but now was not the time to reflect on his good work.)

“Got anything to say?” asked Master.

Tom had the words, had been practicing them all night long. “I have done you a great wrong, Master, and am not worthy of your forgiveness. I am yours to punish however you see fit.”

There was a long pause in which Tom thought Master Cole might not buy it and beat him until he couldn’t move.

The clothes were dropped down in front of him.

“Get cleaned up before you wake up Sarah. And don’t you think you’re off the hook just yet.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

“Worthless piece of shit.”

Master Cole left him to dress and get inside the house on his own. He took a quick shower—short and hot—and paused to look at himself in the mirror. It was bad, but not as bad as it could’ve been. He idly thought about the circumstances over a murdered slave. Would anyone pursue the cause, or would it be something that no one batted an eye at? He didn’t think that Master Cole would kill him. Then he’d have no one to focus his anger on.

He left the bathroom and went to Sarah’s room to wake her and get her ready for school. Of course as soon as she was up, she asked about his face.

“What happened to you, Tom?” she asked.

“Oh,” he said as light as he could. “I took a bad tumble down the stairs last night.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” he admitted even though he had trouble seeing out of one eye and was pretty sure his ribs were bruised.

She hugged him and kissed his cheek as if to make it all better. He held her close, tucking this small act of comfort away for it to remain safe.

He helped dress her and brush out her hair. He served her breakfast and packed a lunch and her bag for her. She put on her shoes by herself, and they walked together to the bus stop.

The only thing Tom really liked about living here was the children. Sarah and Sam were the sweetest children. He was glad to see them grow up, witness Sam’s first steps and words, see Sarah off to school for the first time. In some ways Tom was closer to the children than their own parents were. And they had no idea what a monster their father was and wished that they never saw his mean side. Let them remain innocent and be safe. Let them grow up carefree. Please, just watch over the children.

After seeing Sarah off, Tom returned home to look after Sam. He set him down in the playpen in the living room and whipped up a small breakfast. He took it all up on a tray and knocked on Mistress Lucy’s bedroom door before going in.

“Good morning, Mistress.” He set the tray down on the bedside table closest to her. “I hope you slept well.” He pulled back the window curtains to let the sun in.

Mistress Lucy got up and drew on her robe. Tom was relieved to see that she was all right. (Master Cole was an angry and violent man, but never once did he touch his wife or children with a violent hand.) She approached Tom and took his chin in her hand, holding his head still for her to inspect it.

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” she said. “I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t know it was . . . like this between the two of you.”

“It’s nothing I didn’t deserve, Mistress. I shouldn’t have used you such a way.” The lies were bitter and the training was certainly making its appearance. He took everything upon himself as he should.

“I’m still sorry it came to this.”

She dropped her hand, and they stared at each other for a long time. They couldn’t continue this friendship—or whatever it was considered to be. They both had to remember who they were. They couldn’t continue to have this dream. It wouldn’t do either of them any good in the future.

Mistress Lucy returned to the bed to eat and watch something on the television. Tom left to begin the dishes. Sam was still playing quietly by himself, often looking up to watch the cartoons on the TV.

Pots and pans from last night’s dinner were still sitting in cold, soapy water. He reached in and unplugged the sink to begin a new load. The dishes he rinsed and stuck in the dish washer. He went upstairs to quickly collect Mistress Lucy’s dishes and afterwards washed the larger cookware. As the dishwasher ran, he took a rag and a kitchen cleaner to wipe down all the counter surfaces. He dried and put away the cookware before going down to play with Sam.

“You’re getting to be a big boy, Sammy,” he said, as he lifted the boy out the playpen. Sam squirmed in his grasp as he sat the boy down and kissed the top of his head.

Sam was a quiet boy. He didn’t use many words but always made sounds when playing with his cars. He didn’t need much attention, but Tom liked sitting by him, offering his leg as a track for the cars.

A sudden thought occurred to Tom. They hadn’t used a condom last night, and he didn’t know if Mistress Lucy was on any birth control. If Mistress ended up pregnant, Master Cole would kill Tom and the babe might be aborted. The bastard child of a slave. Master wouldn’t let that to happen.

Tom had had girlfriends before. His latest relationship had ended right before he’d been duped and sold off. He didn’t know if he was ever going to marry anyone—or be able to for that matter—in the near future, but he envisioned a future of a married life with a few children. That was an impossible dream now. If Matser Cole and Mistress Lucy decided to keep this if-baby, then he or she would never know the truth. And it seemed like a Master Cole thing to do, keeping the child to taunt Tom, raising it as his own to show Tom that he had nothing. He was nothing.

Faced with a potential disaster, Tom wiped away at the hot tears on his cheeks, minding his sore eye. Sam looked at him when he sniffled and toddled over to plop himself down on Tom’s lap, offering him a toy car.

“Thank you, Sam.” Tom held the boy until the frustration passed.

At ten thirty Mistress Lucy came down the steps, looking like she was going to go into town. “I’ll be having some friends over in the afternoon,” she said. “We’ll be using the deck, so make sure it’s set up by two thirty.”

“Yes, Mistress. May I ask what it is that you would like to have to eat and drink?”

“Oh, I’ll deal with that. I’ll be leaving instructions for dinner tonight. I suggest you keep to yourself this afternoon.” She reached into her purse to pull out her keys, pausing before saying, “Make sure you eat something.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

“And-and if you need it, there’s some aspirin and Tylenol in the bathroom cabinet. If you need it.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Mistress Lucy stood in the room for a moment as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it.

As soon as she left, Tom went into the kitchen to get something to eat. He hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Dealing with Sam and Sarah and cleaning up the kitchen before being pulled into the bedroom had left him no time to eat. He had some cereal, a piece of toast, and some juice. He cleaned up after himself, and, after checking up on Sam and making sure he was okay, Tom set out to clean up the main floor of the house.

Mistress Lucy often had friends over for a simple get together. She often required Tom to serve drinks and look after Sam. But since he was marked up she probably didn’t want him to create a scene with her friends. They might get the wrong ideas or spread gossip about the slave at the Miller’s house.

After the main floor was clean and neat, Tom took Sam outside so that he could watch the boy while he set up the deck. Sam stuck close to Tom’s side, watching him set out the chairs around the deck, sweeping off the few fallen leaves and dirt from the wooden planks.

As soon as Tom was done, Sam took off to the small swing set in the backyard.

“Swing!” he said.

“All right,” said Tom. “Let’s swing.”

He picked up Sam and set him in the seat and gave him a few pushes. Sam squealed and wiggled his legs. The boy was so happy and carefree that it was sort of heartbreaking to know what a dysfunctional family he lived in. Tom hoped that however the relationship between his Master and Mistress worked out that the children would not be involved in their mess.

After a while on the swing, he took Sam back in for lunch and more play time before nap time. It was a simple cleanup of the kitchen and back to the living room. At two o’clock he took Sam up to his bedroom and set him down in bed. He closed the blinds and turned on the nightlight. When Sam was settled, Tom left quietly and went back to the main floor to wait for Mistress.

She came in soon after. He helped with the bags and set the food on trays and took out the glasses for the drinks.

“I don’t expect you to help out,” Mistress said. “You can go up to your room if you’d like, until Sarah comes home.”

“I will, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

“And, Tom—remember—if you’re feeling sore, there’s some Tylenol in the bathroom.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

She smiled and caressed his cheek before the doorbell rang. He went upstairs and took the offered Tylenol before heading to his room. He had an hour before Sarah came home at three-thirty. He set an alarm for the time in case he fell asleep and missed the time, which he did.

The alarm blared, and he sat up in bed, flicking the alarm off. He went downstairs to the front door. He put on his shoes and left the house. He felt a lot more scrutinized with the bruises on his face. If the neighbours saw, he wondered what they thought, what rumors that had of his Master’s house. Would anyone stop to ask him what happened, or would they take one look at the black cuff around his wrist and think twice before offering their help?

His thoughts were cut short when the school bus arrived. Several children got off in a hurry, walking off in groups or heading off with parents. Sarah saw him and smiled.

“Tom!”

He bent down as she gave him a hug.

“Does your eye still hurt?”

“A little.”

She kissed him at the edge of his bruise. “Is that better?”

“Much better.” Tom straightened and offered his hand to Sarah, who took it and walked with him back home.

“I made something for you.”

“You did?”

“Uh huh. And I have a new book to read tonight.”

“Yeah? What is it about?”

“It’s called _The Magic School Bus._ I thought it looked cool.”

“I’m sure it’s a very exciting book then if it has a magic bus. We’ll read it together tonight.”

He led her back into the house where she handed him her backpack. “You go on into the playroom,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute with your brother.”

“Okay.” As soon as her shoes were off, she dashed off down the hallway.

Tom went upstairs and woke up Sam. After changing him, he brought the boy to the playroom. He went back into the kitchen and returned with some snacks and drinks.

It was a quiet afternoon that distracted Tom from all else that was going on. The children were full of energy. When it was almost five, Mistress Lucy entered the room. The children ran to her, and Tom stood up.

“You can go and make dinner now, Tom. I’ll take them from here.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He went to the kitchen and overlooked the list for dinner. Master Cole would be barbecuing tonight. A late dinner, then, with mashed potatoes and cooked carrots. Simple. Easy.

He dug out everything he needed and began to peel the potatoes over the sink. He cut them up and placed them in a pan of water over the stove and set it to a boil. Master Cole came into the house soon after. Tom stayed by the stove and prepared another pan for the carrots for later on.

Master said hello to the kids, loosened his tie, and took out the meat and everything else for the barbecue. Mistress and the kids followed soon after.

The mashed potatoes were finished in the next twenty minutes and the carrots ten minutes after that. He set the table and set the food down just as the meat was brought in.

“Tom,” Master Cole said. “Can you come out here?”

Tom stepped out onto the deck towards where the barbecue was. “Do you need something, Master?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes looking inside the house for a moment. “Give me your hand.”

He gave Master Cole his right hand. Master held him tightly by the wrist.

“Don’t make a sound,” he said and pressed Tom’s hand on the still hot grills of the barbecue.

He held it there.

It was a long five seconds before Master released his grip. Other than a few small noises and the harsh breathing through his nose, Tom tried his hardest to keep quiet.

“What are you?” Master Cole asked.

“I am yours, Master.” Tom blinked and a tear spilled from his eye as he held his injured hand.

“And don’t you forget it. Clean up your hand and cover it. I don’t want to see your face tonight.”

Tom all but fled upstairs to the bathroom and secured the lock. He immediately stuck his hand under a cold stream of water. His entire hand was red and blistered. He searched the cabinet for some burn cream and took out a tube of Neosporin. He delicately dabbed at his burnt hand to dry it. He covered his entire hand in the cool cream. He then awkwardly draped the bandage over his hand and covered the worst of the burns. He secured it all with surgical tape. He slammed back two Tylenol tablets and sunk down on the floor afterwards.

His skin felt hot and tight. Everything would be hampered by this. Master Cole knew what he was doing. Tom would still have to get everything done, though. No excuses.

A half hour later and Tom went back downstairs to start cleaning. The family had settled into the living room so Tom had time to clean up. He took extra care of carrying the dishes to the kitchen. He put them in the dishwasher after a rinse and packed away the leftovers. He drank a glass of water before wiping down all the surfaces.

The kitchen was cleaned rather quickly, allowing Tom to step out onto the deck and sit on the steps to allow himself a few minutes just to cry. To be honest, he was terrified. He did not know what to expect from the erratic Master Cole. He didn’t know when the punishments would end, but he did not expect any time soon.

He successfully kept out of Master Cole’s way the entire night as he set the kids down for bed. He helped Sarah brush her teeth and get dressed and then read her book. She asked him about his hand, of course, and he had to lied to her, of course. He hated lying to Sarah, but there was nothing else he could do.

“I burnt my hand during dinner,” he said.

“Why do you keep hurting yourself, Tom?” she asked as he pulled up the blankets on her bed.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been feeling well today.”

Sarah sat up in her bed and pressed a hand to his forehead. He smiled a little at her actions. “Open your mouth and say ‘ahhhhh.’”

“Ahhhhhhhhh.”

“You don’t look sick,” she said.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he said. “Now we need to get you back into bed.”

“Wait!” She jumped out of bed and went to her backpack to pull out a piece of paper. She jumped back in and gave it to him. “This is for you.”

It was a drawing she had made in school. It was a picture of Tom and Sarah, him trying to teach her how to ride a bike. It had the artistic skills of a six year old, but it was no less important.

“Thank you, Sarah.” He kissed her cheek and tucked her into bed. “Good night.”

“Good night, Tom.”

Since he had no more chores for that night, Tom got ready for bed. He was about to turn out his light when Master Cole entered the room.

“Master,” he said.

“Come with me, Tom.”

“Yes, Master.”

They went into the basement. No one would hear them down here, Tom thought.

“I’m having a poker game Saturday night,” Master Cole said. “You’ll be helping out.”

“Yes, Master.” Tom never liked those games. The men were always crude and spat lewd insults at him.

“Have you ever been fucked by a man, Tom?”

The question came as a surprise to him, so he stammered his answer. “N-no, Master.”

“Have you ever sucked cock before, Tom?”

Another no, and Tom started having thoughts about where this might end up.

“That’s a surprise,” Master Cole said. “Coming from a whore like you.” He rested a hand on Tom’s shoulder, sliding it up to hold him by the side of his neck. “I might just forgive you for this . . . little . . . transgression if you put your mouth to good use.” His fingers curled in Tom’s hair, pulling just a little to send the message that Tom should get on his knees.

Tom sank down onto the carpet. Master Cole was leaning against the wall. Tom raised his shaking hands to the bottoms of Master Cole’s pants. He pulled them down slowly along with Master’s briefs to his thighs. Master was completely soft, but Tom knew it probably wouldn’t take much to get him hard.

“Well?” Master said. “Get on with it. Don’t want to drag this out any longer, do you?”

Tom didn’t. He really just wanted to go to bed. He was running on fumes now. He brought up his hands to grip the soft length and stroke it gently. He did what he would usually do with himself when jerking off. It seemed to be working. Master’s cock began to harden. He moaned above Tom and his hands found their way to his curly hair to hold on.

When Master was fully erect, Tom hesitated. Master Cole tugged on his hair, pulling his head forward. “Cooperate,” he growled. “Or you’ll get to see how nasty I can really get.”

Using one hand to grip him, Tom leaned forward and licked the head. He grew bolder in his movements when Master Cole rested his head against the wall and moaned. He sucked and hollowed his cheeks, rolling his tongue and using his hands when he couldn’t take the entire length into his mouth.  

Master began to thrust forward, and Tom nearly gagged when his cock hit the back of his throat. His hands were in Tom’s hair again, this time with a harsher grip. He tried to get himself to relax, to just let Master Cole do as he wished, but tears pricked his eyes and it began to get increasingly difficult to breathe.

Master Cole sighed and pulled out of Tom’s mouth. Tom coughed and sucked in a lungful of air. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want this to end,” Master said.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

Tom took him back into his mouth, forcing himself to relax enough when Master began to thrust again.

When his bitter seed hit Tom’s throat, he gagged and felt like he was going to throw up.

“Swallow.”

And Tom did. He took in every drop and licked Master’s spent cock clean before putting him away.

“Not bad,” Master said, petting Tom’s hair. “I guess I’ve found a reason to keep you around for a bit longer. Stand up for a moment.” Tom stood, and Master grabbed his injured hand. “Might want to put some ice on that. Don’t want it to get infected now.”

“No, Master. Thank you, Master.”

“Cute.”

Master went up to his bedroom, and Tom stayed up for a bit longer. He brushed his teeth and mouth three times and gargled twice. He felt like he was going to be sick and maybe he was. He just didn’t know what to do, and there was nothing he could do. He was a slave. This is what he was for. Well. Not the forced blowjobs and sex, but the obeying the orders part. He couldn’t very well say no. He had no reason to. No right to.

He wrapped an icepack in a towel and brought it up to his bedroom with him. He pressed it against his burnt hand and could not—no matter how tired he was—find the best position to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to respond to your comments and such, but let me know what you think and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Elsa look after Tom, but this stirs things up and leaves people confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's got internet? ME! I'm back for good! We've got a basic package, but we can't watch any videos or anything, so that means we have to talk to the internet people about that. But that means I can still update more regularly. Isn't that exciting?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the new chapter.

The next day Tom sleeps. Elsa has to work but not until the afternoon, so by then Tom is downstairs in the living room, lying on the couch so he can watch over India. That’s where Chris finds him when he comes home from work. Tom is lying down on the couch with a blanket that covers almost everything but his feet. He’s a tall guy after all.

Chris gets home at his regular time and goes upstairs to the bedroom to change out of his suit and into some short and a t-shirt. He comes back down into the living room and sees Tom stretching out his arm so India can grab his fingers and try to get onto her feet. Her attention turns to Chris and she squeals until he picks her up and settles her on his lap.

“Welcome home, sir,” Tom says as he pulls his legs up to give Chris a spot on the couch and moves to sit up.

“Don’t get up on my account.” Chris settles on the empty cushion, and Tom lies back down. “How are you feeling by the way?”

Tom shrugs. “Still tired. Still sore. But better, though, thank you.”

“Is it all in your feet then?”

Tom wiggles his toes. “Mostly. I think I might sleep on the couch tonight. Doubt I can make back up those stairs again.” He laughs a little, softly, as if trying to make the situation a bit lighter, but Chris knows that’s not it.

Tom closes his eyes and sighs deeply. Chris watches him, looks over his curled up form. Who knew he could look so small with those mile long legs of his? He wonders a lot of things about Tom. He wonders how long he’s been a slave, what he did that made him a slave, and what happened to him to make him so scared and nervous. Ever since that first day, despite his initial reluctance, Chris has become more interested and invested in Tom than he imagined he would be. Tom is an interesting addition into their house. He’s helpful in every way and yet remains a constant background presence so he’s never in the way. In general Tom is perfect, and Chris can’t understand for the life of him why someone would want to hurt him.

Chris feeds India and makes dinner. He doesn’t want Tom to move and tells him to stay on the couch when he goes to sit up and help. He makes sausages on the stove top with some cooked vegetables and some rice. India is in her high chair so he can keep an eye on her. He feeds her, cleans her up afterwards, and gets Tom a plate of food he can have in the living room. Chris eats at the table with India. He makes up a plate for Elsa and covers it with a pot lid to keep it somewhat warm until she comes home.

Later in the evening Chris puts India to bed. She’s a little fussy that night, squirming and gurgling to get Chris’s attention. She’s also a little clingy that night and doesn’t like it when Chris puts her down in her crib for the night. Usually India is a pretty good sleeper on her own. Chris hopes that this is just a phase and not an indication that she’s coming down with something.

He’ll check up on her later and speak to Elsa just in case.

Chris goes back into the living room. Tom is fast asleep, legs splayed over the other end of the couch, one arm above his head and the other lying limp to his side on the verge of falling off the couch. His mouth is slightly open.

He goes over to the couch and gently lifts Tom’s feet. Tom doesn’t wake. Chris sits down on the couch and sets Tom’s feet down on his lap. Tom stretches out a little before going still.

Chris sets one of his hands down on Tom’s slim ankle. His skin is warm, and he jumps a little from the contact. Chris runs his hand down his foot. He brings up his other hand and grips Tom’s foot before pressing his fingers into the sole and rubbing in circles. He massages down to the heel and up to the balls of his feet. Tom remains asleep.

Chris starts on the next foot, repeating the same gentle process as before. He continues this for a few minutes until Tom’s foot pulls back. Chris looks over to the other side of the couch, stilling his hands but not pulling away. Tom is awake, eyes glazed over a bit but still fully aware of the situation. Nothing is said, but both stare at each other, gaging each other’s reactions.

The front door opens. Elsa is home.

“Hello,” she calls out. “Anybody home?”

“Yeah,” Chris responds. “In here.” He pulls away his hands, and Tom tucks his legs against himself.

Chris gets up and goes to the kitchen to greet Elsa and give her a kiss. “Welcome home.”

“Hello, you.” She returns his kiss. “What have you boys been up to tonight?”

“Well, Tom’s been sleeping, and I’ve been making dinner and caring for India. By the way she was a little fussy tonight when I put her down to bed.”

“Has she?”

“I’m wondering if it’s just a phase of if she’s coming down with something.”

“I’ll go up and check on her then. Be back in a moment.”

While she heads upstairs, he puts her food in the microwave and gets it warm and ready for when she returns, saying that India is fine and might’ve been just a little gassy earlier.

She eats at the table. Chris sits with her and they talk about their day at work and any other matters they need to discuss. Afterwards they clean up the kitchen together and go to sit down in the living room.

Tom sits up when they come in. The hair on one side of his head is flattened. It’s really curly right now and fluffy. Chris considers asking Tom if he’d like a haircut.

“Hello, Tom,” Elsa says and plops herself down on the couch. Chris sits down next to her with Tom on the other side of her.

“Hello, miss. Did you have a good day?”

Elsa shrugs. “It was . . . tolerable. That’s all I’m going to say about that.” She sets her feet on the coffee table. “And what about you, Tom? How was your day?”

Tom rubs at his eyes and tries to give order to his hair. “I was on the couch all day, so nothing exciting, I’m afraid.”

“And how are you feeling? Have you been taking Tylenol?”

“Yes, miss. I’m feeling a bit better, still a little sore, though.”

“But you’re sure you’re okay? You don’t need anything else from us?”

Tom shakes his head. “Thank you, miss, but no. I’m fine. I think I might go to bed, though, if that’s all right.”

“It is. We’ll see you in the morning then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, miss. Sir.” Tom takes his blanket with him upstairs, moving stiffly as he does. Chris watches him carefully just in case if he stumbles. He disappears upstairs.

* * *

Chris can’t sleep that night and he doesn’t know why. He gets up around two o’clock to head down into the kitchen to get something to drink. He aimlessly wanders around the house and stops by Tom’s room. The door is always open just a sliver. He looks inside. Tom is asleep, curled around his pillow with the blanket pulled down to his waist. He looks perfectly at peace.

When Tom rolls over onto his back, Chris goes back to his room and slides under the blankets. He falls asleep easier this time.

* * *

The next day Tom insists that he be allowed to resume his duties. Well, not really insisting. More like asking really politely and hoping for the best. Considering that Tom gets anxious when he isn’t doing anything, Chris and Elsa decide that the best thing is to let Tom do his job. While he still moves stiffly, he does everything he’s supposed to do.

After a few days, Tom seems much better. He’s not as stiff and seems to be okay considering everything he’s been through this week. The one thing that Chris notices is that Tom no longer seems interested in going for a run or even setting foot out of the house. He says he’s fine, but Chris knows the center has left its mark. He won’t push Tom into going outside until he’s comfortable, but it’s still a little sad to see how Tom wants to be housebound for the foreseeable future.

One evening while Tom is cleaning the kitchen, he comes into the living room and says, “The dishwasher is making a horrid noise, and I’m kind of scared of it right now.”

Chris gets up from the couch and goes to investigate. Tom has stopped the dishwasher cycle for now, but Chris restarts it to listen to the problem. It is really making a horrible noise. So Chris stops the cycle again and opens the dishwasher to look inside. There’s no water inside. Something must be clogging the pipes. So that means Chris will have to call someone in to look at it, meaning they have to do the dishes by hand until the dishwasher is fixed.

“Well,” Chris says. “I’m no expert. But I think it’s broken.”

Tom nods and goes over to start unloading the dishwasher he just previously loaded. Chris stays to help him. He starts by filling one of the sinks with hot, soapy water. They work around each other a bit until one side of the counter is stacked with dirty dishes and the other holds the dish rack. Tom washes and Chris dries and it’s very quiet between the two.

Elsa eventually stops by in the kitchen to see what’s happening. “What’s happening?”

“The dishwasher isn’t working,” Chris says. “I’ll call someone tomorrow to come down and take a look at it.”

“Not working. What’s wrong with it?”

“No water is coming in. So I guess we’ll just have to wash dishes by hand until we get it fixed.”

“So you guys got a hand on things here?”

Chris nods. “We’re fine.”

Elsa goes back into the living room.

Tom continues to wash the dishes, keeping his gaze down at the sink. Chris wonders what Tom is thinking, what’s going on inside that curly head of his. He wonders if he somehow over stepped some sort of boundary line with the foot rub yesterday. He doesn’t exactly why he decided to do it, he just did. It felt like the right thing to do, the best thing to do in this case. He just wanted to make Tom comfortable, but he worries that might’ve rubbed Tom off in the wrong way, making Tom think that he had to repay Chris in some form. He thinks he should say something on the matter, but he doesn’t know what.

They finish the dishes and go their separate ways. The foot rub incident isn’t discussed that night, and Chris doesn’t know when they’ll bring it up again. He rather hopes it doesn’t come up again. He’d rather let it be forgotten. But with someone like Tom it’s never that easy to just let things go.

* * *

Chris asks if Tom would like to get his hair cut after work on Friday. The reaction he gets is not what he expected.

“It’s your decision, sir,” he replies.

“Yeah, but I want to know if you _want_ your hair cut. If you don’t, then we won’t cut it. So, do you want your hair cut or not?”

Tom runs his hands over his head, tugging through the curls to measure the length. “If-if you are offering, sir, then I-I would . . . I guess I would like to have my hair cut.”

“Good. We’ll go right now then. Get your shoes on.”

“Wait. You-you mean that . . .”

Chris turns. “Mean what?”

“You’re not cutting my hair then, sir?”

Chris shakes his head. “I am not qualified to cut hair. It’d be a mess if I did. No, we’re going to a professional place just a few blocks over. Do you want to go tonight?”

It takes Tom a few seconds to respond. He nods and says, “Yes. I would, sir.”

Elsa stays with India while Chris drives Tom to the nearest hair salon.

Tom is quiet and a little restless in the passenger’s seat. It’s his first time out since the incident and the first time they are actually alone together since the foot rub. Chris tries to remain as calm and casual as he can; making sure that he isn’t giving Tom any mixed messages.

He parks the car, and they get out onto the sidewalk. Chris is the first to enter the salon while Tom walks behind him. He goes up to the desk, seeing that the place is completely empty since it’s dinner time. There are two hairdressers there, one at the front and another in the back.

“How can I help you today?” one asks with a cheery voice.

Chris looks back at Tom to gage his reactions. He looks uncomfortable, so Chris decides to speak for him. “Yeah, hi. Um, my friend here is looking to get his haircut.”

The hairdresser looks at Tom, sees the cuff on his wrist, and nods. “And can I get your name please, sir?”

“Chris Hemsworth.”

The hairdresser sets it all into her computer on the front desk. “I can take him now.”

Tom follows the hairdresser to her station and is seated on the chair, fitted with the usual black cape. Chris looks behind him and sits down on one of the chairs. He digs through the magazines on the table next to him, not really interested in the fashion or celebrity gossip but he has to do something while he waits.

“Mr. Hemsworth, sir,” the hairdresser says. “How would you like to have his hair done?”

Chris looks up. The hairdresser and Tom are both looking at him for an answer. Chris wasn’t expecting this.

“Uh, whatever he wants,” he says. “I’ve got no opinion.”

The hairdresser looks to Tom and Tom looks at himself in the mirror. He begins to explain what he’s after in the same manner as always: stuttering and speaking quietly, but he gets it out. The hairdresser does a fabulous job, trimming the back and the sides, leaving a bit of length on top to put some product in. There’s a mountain of curly hair surrounding the chair after she’s done.

Chris pays for the haircut, and they’re back in the car and back at home in thirty minutes. Elsa approves of the new look and her response leaves him smiling.

“He looks nice,” she says when they settle down for bed that night.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“Did he decide to have it cut that way, or did you have some input on the decision?”

Chris looks at her, a little confused. “No, he chose it on his own. And is that how things are done?”

“You mean with the haircuts?” He nods. “Sometimes. Most owners just tell the hairdressers what they want for their slave. It’s perfectly normal.”

But it still bothers Chris. It bothers him a lot. There’s so much he doesn’t know about owning a slave. He’s already made so many mistakes with and around Tom that has resulted in a few too many awkward situations and encounters. Let’s face it. He doesn’t know the first thing about owning a slave.

“Do you regret transferring ownership?” Elsa asks him quietly, seeing the frown he wears and noticing how tense the rest of his body is.

Chris shakes his head. He doesn’t regret it. Not for one moment. Better to have Tom here than send him to an unknown future. There’s something else that’s bothering him about this entire situation. He feels like everything is bubbling up inside of him and he’s going to overflow and explode one day.

“Hey.” Elsa shifts up to his side, throwing an arm over his stomach and twining her legs with his. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing you need to tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

Elsa holds him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s embrace.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole breaks his unruly slave day by day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter. I've got nothing more to say... Um. Yeah. Leave a comment. That's about it. Enjoy.

Things began to steadily get worse in the Miller household. Mistress Lucy began to keep her distance from Tom, which was something he expected to happen. Master Cole continued to hold this incident over Tom’s head, finding new ways to punish him for this misdeed.

One night Tom went up to his room when he was done all his work and found it turned upside down. Bed sheets were torn off the mattress and bundled up in messy piles. His clothes were all over the floor. And that wasn’t the worst of it. His books had been torn to shreds. Pieces of paper littered the ground while book covers tried to hold together what pages were left.

Master Cole stood in one corner of the room, sifting through the paintings and drawings Sarah had given to Tom.

“What are these?” Master Cole asked.

“Drawings, Master. And some paintings,” he replied.

"Where'd you get them?"                                                                                                          

“From Sarah, Master.”

“Hmm.” He continued to look through them, paging through the sheets of crinkled paper. “I wonder why she would spend time on making things for you. Maybe she hasn’t realized what your position is in society yet. She will learn, but not yet. She’s too young.” He folded the stack of drawings and held them tightly in his fist. “If she brings anymore of these to you, bring them to me, all right?”

Tom nodded. “Yes, Master.”

Master Cole stepped forward and placed his hand on Tom’s neck. “You’re learning already.” He looked at Tom’s hair, carding his fingers through it to measure the length. “Remind me to give you a haircut tomorrow.”

“Yes, Master.”

Master Cole patted Tom’s cheek before leaving. Tom closed his door until there was a sliver of space between it and the doorframe. He started organizing his room. His clothes were easy to manage. Folding them was no problem. He put the bed back together, smoothing out the sheets so they were flat and wrinkle free. (He was very thankful that his Master hadn’t decided to take his bed away. Yet.) The last thing he did was pile his torn books together and sat there, trying to figure out to do with them. He was reluctant to part with them. They offered an escape, a way out of his existence if only for a moment. But they were irreparable like this. He wouldn’t be able to read them again. He decided to throw them all away. No point in keeping them like this.

* * *

The next day was a Saturday. That meant Master Cole was home for two whole days, which meant plenty of opportunities for Tom to make up for his mistake. Needless to say he wasn’t looking forward to it, but he thought that if he expected the worse that would make it easier for him.

On Saturday when Tom had a free moment, he went up to Master Cole. “Master, I’ve finished my chores for now. You asked me to remind you about giving me a haircut.”

Master Cole looked up from his laptop and nodded. “Right. Ummmm. Go get set up in the bathroom and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yes, Master.”

Tom went to the bathroom and got set up. He unfolded a chair and took out a towel and Master Cole’s electric clippers. He sat down on the chair and draped the towel over his shoulders and held it closed with one hand. He waited.

Master Cole always took the time to cut Tom’s hair. He liked it short, and it was a way to remind Tom of his place. He did it ever month or two months, whenever he noticed that Tom’s curly hair was getting out of control. He usually left an inch or half an inch behind.

It wasn’t the nicest job, but it wasn’t bad.

Master Cole entered and took up the clippers, turning it on with a _whirr._ He started at the back of Tom’s head, bringing the clipper up and leaving behind large clumps of curls. It seemed like a lot of hair. Too much hair in fact. It was never like this before.

The clippers continued its pass over Tom’s head again and again and again. When they were turned off, Tom let go of the towel and looked at the ground around the chair. That was a lot of hair.

“There you go,” Master Cole said. “That should last you for a few months.”

Tom stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. There was barely anything there. He wanted to bring up his hands and run them over his scalp to see how much was left, but he didn’t want to do that in front of Master Cole. That would obviously give him great satisfaction. So he kept his hands at his sides and looked at himself passively in the mirror.

“I think it looks good on you,” Master Cole said as he put away the clippers. “What do you think, Tom? Doesn’t it look good?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master Cole stood near Tom’s side, studying him carefully. “Are you trained to say ‘yes’ to everything I ask?”

“Yes, Master.”

“If I were to order you to do anything—absolutely anything—would you do it?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master Cole licked his lips. “Let’s give this a try. Get down on your knees.”

Tom knelt down as soon as he was told. He looked up.

“You look good on your knees.” He shifted from foot to foot before Tom. Tom thought that maybe he’d be asked to service his Master again, but Master Cole simply told him to clean up the bathroom and left to go back to work. Tom was relieved.

He swept up the piles of his hair and dumped it all into the garbage can. He put away the chair and threw the towel into the laundry hamper. He raised one hand and ran it over his head. His short hair pricked his hand, feeling unfamiliar.

He continued his day as usual, dreading the night to come.

* * *

It was around eight o’clock when Master Cole’s friends began to show up. Mistress Lucy would be caring for the kids and putting them to bed that night and what she was going to do after that Tom didn’t know.

The basement came with its own small kitchenette. The fridge was stocked with food and drinks. At the other end of the basement were the large TV, leather couches, and poker table. This night there were eight men all together. Tom was required to stand behind his Master’s chair against the wall and stand there until someone had need of him.

This night the TV was on, showing a baseball game while the volume was on low. Tom stood and waited while Mater Cole shuffled and dealt out the cards. Usually there was no betting during these games. But once in a while the men wanted to make things interesting. Tonight was one of those nights.

“Can you get me a drink?”

Tom looked at the speaker and asked, “What would you like, sir?”

The man shrugged. “Anything you got. I’ve got no preference.”

“Yes, sir.” Tom stepped away from the wall and walked to the kitchenette, grabbing the first drink he could get his hands on from the fridge. He used the bottle opener and popped off the cap before returning it to the man.

“Thank you,” the man said and took the drink with a smile.

“You’re welcome, sir.” He returned to his regular position and kept his gaze strictly on the ground.

The men placed their bets, asking for a drink or something to eat every once in a while. Tom remembered his manners and training, and Master Cole made no move to criticize his work, which was something he wasn’t afraid to do even in the company of others.

The men made idle chatter while they waited for others to place their bets. It was usually about work, sports, their family, and other friends that weren’t there. The regular men at these games were Sebastian Cook, Martin Walker, John Monroe, Steve Lee, and David Harris. Tom always saw these five men here during came night at the Miller’s. Sebastian was calm, Martin was boisterous, John was quiet and sometimes twitchy, Steve was collected and always on point, and David was nosy. Some of these men weren’t bad. They more or less ignored Tom’s presence, but others watched him, noticed how he stood and waited for an order. Sebastian eyed him like he was a curiosity that should be studied. David eyed him like he wanted insider information on his Master. (Which made sense because they were co-workers/rivals/friends. They only liked each other enough to try and get favours from each other.)

Sebastian was the one who stared at Tom the most. He was probably noticing the fading bruises and bandaged right hand that was still a bit weepy. Tom waited. He knew Sebastian would make a comment about his appearance. The bruises were saying ‘look at the disobedient slave being shown his place.’ And Sebastian always seemed like the man who’d be interested in learning the story behind them.

“Your slave looks a little roughed up,” Sebastian said.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Steve said. “What happened to him?”

“He had an accident,” Master Cole replied. “He’s a bit of a klutz sometimes. Gets himself hurt. Gets himself into trouble.”

“What happened?” Martin asked. “Did he get into a fight with a mop?”

“Not exactly.”

“Seems to me like he’s being punished,” said Sebastian. “You don’t get bruises like that from a fall.”

Master Cole tapped his fingers on the poker table.

“There’s nothing wrong with showing a slave his place,” Steve said. “If he did something wrong, then it’s totally within your rights as the owner to punish him.”

“If he’s still giving you problems,” John piped up, “then you can bring him to the center and they can re-educate him for you. Takes two weeks at the most.”

“Or you can just sell him,” Sebastian said, leaning off his seat a bit to pull out his wallet and open it up. He pulled out a wad of bills and laid them on the table. “I’ll buy him off you for four hundred.”

Master Cole’s tapping fingers stooped. He curled them inwards into his palm. Tom could tell he was thinking about it, but he didn’t know what his Master would decide.

“Let’s make a game of it,” Master said. “John, deal the cards. Your money against my slave. You win, you get my slave. I win, you get to keep your money for a rainy day.”

Sebastian nodded and smirked. “Sounds fair enough.”

Tom watched the cards be shuffled and dealt out. It was a fairly quick game with just the two of them playing, but Tom followed every move, patiently waiting to see if he would be leaving tonight or not. He didn’t know much about Sebastian Cook but basic impressions. Would he be better off with a man like Sebastian? He didn’t know.

The hands were laid out on the table, declaring Master Cole as the winner. He sat back in his chair, smiling a little, but said, “Shame you didn’t win.”

Sebastian shrugged and casually tucked his money back into his wallet. “It’s no loss. I’ve been having bad cards all night long.”

“No, no loss at all. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to take him yet. He needs a bit more . . . work.”

“What’s wrong with him?

“Sometimes he doesn’t understand what he is. Needs a reminder every now and then. But I’m pretty sure I’ll get him to where I want him. He’s already starting to learn.”  Master Cole twisted in his sit to look at Tom. “Tom, go stand in the corner over there.” He pointed to which corner he was talking about.

Tom walked over to the corner and stood with his back to the poker table.

“Now get down on your knees.”

He got down on his knees, still facing the wall.

“And put your hands on your head.”

He raised his hands and placed them on the back of his head, weaving his fingers together with the short hair pricking his skin.

“Just does what he’s told without hesitation,” Martin remarked. “Astounding.”

“He’s learning,” Master Cole said.

They returned to their game from before and completely ignored Tom. They didn’t even ask him to get them any refreshments. He wasn’t even there to them. He felt like a little kid like this, being punished with a timeout in the corner. His face felt warm from embarrassment. This was so childish. Why was he agreeing to this? Why did he let himself be degraded like this?

The games continued while Tom held his position. He was surprised to find himself crying. It was quiet for other than a few small gasps. If the men noticed, they certainly didn’t say anything. He didn’t know why he was crying. Perhaps everything was just bubbling to the surface from the humiliation of this type of punishment.

They left around two o’clock that night. Tom waited for a command to be let out of the corner so that he could clean up and go to bed. All he could do was wait. If he moved, he knew that Master Cole would most likely to keep him in this position all night long.

“Come here, Tom,” Master finally said.

Tom dropped his hands and went to stand, feeling his knees creak with the movement. He walked over to stand before his Master. Master Cole looked at him and frowned. He stood up to swipe his thumb just under Tom’s eye.

“Crying now?” he asked and without missing a beat cracked his open palm against Tom’s cheek. His head snapped to the side. “You do _not_ get to feel sorry for yourself. You got yourself into this mess. This is what you get. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”

“Clean this up and you can go to bed.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

Master Cole left him in the basement to organize things and get it all cleaned up.

Tom started with the poker table, putting away the cards and chips in their proper places. He picked up the empty beer cans and bottles and put them away in empty boxes so that they could be taken back to the beer store later on. He cleaned the countertops in the kitchenette and vacuumed the floor after he was done. In all he was done around three o’clock. He didn’t even bother brushing his teeth and fell straight into bed. Before he lost the battle in keeping his eyes open, he set his alarm for seven-thirty, knowing that he would most likely sleep in if given the chance.

He got up the next morning at seven-thirty and went on with his day as usual.

* * *

For two months Tom continued to live and work at the Millers. A few weeks after the incident, Master Cole’s punishments began to taper off. What he found out later was that Mistress Lucy convinced him to go to couple’s therapy. Clearly they had some issues to work out together, and Tom was happy that they were taking the initiative to mend their relationship. He was also happy that Master Cole had seemed to lose interest in him. There were no more moments where Tom was scared whenever his Master walked into the room. But that didn’t mean he no longer completed his chores with the same caution as before. It just meant that he could complete them without any anxieties of when his Master came home.

Now that it was July, Tom had both Sarah and Sam to look after during the days. Mistress Lucy was more or less a stay at home mom, but now that the children were older she was interested in getting a job once more.

If Mistress Lucy was going to get a job—whether full time or part time—then Tom would be staying with the family. But he knew with the history he had with the both of them that he would never be able to stay forever. Overhearing a conversation with his Master and Mistress one night only confirmed his suspicions.

After finishing his chores for the night he was about to enter his room when he heart his Master and Mistress speaking to each other in the living room. Their voices drifted up the stairs, and Tom walked down a few steps before sitting down on the stairs to listen in on their conversation. It wasn’t something he ever did. He was too scared to be caught, but he heard his name brought up and wanted to find out what they were talking about.

“We can’t keep him,” that was his Master. “We need to get someone else.”

“Well, we can always bring him back to the center tomorrow and get someone else. Or this weekend,” his Mistress said.

“No. I’ve already got a buyer interested in him. Once he’s gone, you and I will go pick out someone together.”

Tom quietly disappeared into his room, lying down on the bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. He would be leaving soon.

* * *

Two days later Tom was told to pack up his belongings. He would be leaving that afternoon. He didn’t know who was buying him, but he came down into Master Cole’s office when he was asked to with his belongings in hand.

When he entered, another person was in the office with his Master already. He waited at the back of the room with his bag at his feet and his hands folded before him.

“So,” Master Cole said. “What I’ve done is I’ve talked with someone at the center and they gave me some forms that we can fill out here and do the transfer here. I’ll just give you and me a copy of the forms after we’re done and send these off to the center.”

The men signed their forms and transferred the money. Tom recognized the voice of the other man.

“Why are you selling him?” the man asked.

“He’s just not working out with the family anymore,” Master Cole explained. “We’re going to get someone new for the family. He’s just not cut out anymore for this house.”

And that was that. They shook hands, finished the deal, and stood up from the desk. Tom saw who the other man was. It was Sebastian Cook. He did voice his interest in buying Tom before, so it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that he was going to be Tom’s new Master.

Sebastian turned to look at Tom. He was smiling. “All right, Tom. Why don’t you follow me out, and I’ll take you to my place. Nice doing business with you, Cole.”

“Yeah, you too. Have fun with him.”

The men both laughed, and Tom felt a shiver pass through his body.

Sebastian walked out of the room, and Tom followed just behind him. They walked out of the house and to Sebastian’s car that was parked in the driveway. He was told to get into the passenger seat, and realized that he wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye to either Sarah or Sam. Mistress Lucy had taken them to the park. He’d be gone by the time they came home. He felt like asking if he could see them before they left, but it seemed like Sebastian wanted to get going, so he kept his mouth shut.

Sebastian started the car and backed out of the driveway onto the road. Tom silently said goodbye to the Miller house and knew that he was going to miss the children most of all, the only ones who treated him like a person instead of a slave.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom misinterprets some things. . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back with another chapter! No warnings for this one.

The dishwasher is fixed within a week. Chris and Elsa take turns helping Tom wash dishes and clean up the kitchen until then. They don’t want Tom to do all the work by himself. He does so much for them already, and it’s the least they can do until the repairman comes over to fix the dishwasher. Chris thinks it isn’t a problem until one night.

Elsa has girls’ night on every available Tuesday she doesn’t have to work. Sometimes girls’ night happens at their house in which case Chris has to leave for a while. But on this Tuesday night, Elsa is going to a friend’s house for a few hours after dinner.

“So it’ll just be you boys and India tonight,” Elsa says, getting everything she needs together in the kitchen. “I shouldn’t be out too late, but if anything bad happens, just call me and I’ll come right back.”

“I know you will,” Chris says. “Now, you go have some fun tonight. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

She kisses him quickly and picks up her purse from the table. “Bye now.”

“Goodbye.”

She leaves and he watches her get into her car and drive away before closing the door and walking back into the living room.

“Elsa will be back late tonight, so you don’t need to wait up for her if you were planning to.”

Tom looks up from where he’s sitting on the carpet with India climbing over his legs. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Tom keeps India occupied while Chris takes a nap on the couch. He’s only thirty, but Chris can’t pull late-nighters anymore. Not like he used to. He cat naps on the couch until Tom gets up.

“I’m going to take India to bed now, sir,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.”

He carries her upstairs.

Chris gets up from the couch and goes into the office to look through a file. Since the running incident and the whole mess that followed after, Chris has taken up to reading over his contract of ownership to see if there isn’t any other hidden details that they need to know about. It’s a little more complicated than he previously thought, not as simple as buying a car. As the owner Chris is obligated to provide Tom with basic necessities such as food, shelter, and healthcare. That’s it. The bare necessities. There’s nothing else that he has to give Tom. But since the instructions are so vague, the bare necessities can mean absolutely anything.

Further on the package, Chris reads that if Slave IC-782 does not live up to his needs, then Slave IC -782 can be returned for either a partial refund or a trade. If IC-782 is not behaving or cooperating, then Chris can bring him to the center for a week or so (‘time varies with each case’ it says) and IC-782 will undergo a process of evaluation and re-education. IC-782 will be returned when he has passed his evaluation, and the whole process is of no charge. The word ‘re-education’ sounds like something from those dystopian novels. Like _1984_ by George Orwell.

He’s disturbed by a knock on the door frame. He looks up. It’s Tom.

“Hello, Tom. Do you need anything?”

“No, sir. I’m fine. I was just telling you that I’m going to bed.”

Chris looks at his watch. It’s only eight-thirty. “Are you okay, Tom?”

“Yes, sir. Just tired, sir.”

“Well, okay then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

Tom leaves Chris to go over the contract until his horror and disgust win out and he has to stop.

He decides to take a shower that night, staying under the hot spray for longer than usual. He steps out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam and a towel around his waist. It’s just a few steps from the bathroom to his room. He pushes the door all the way open and is greeted with a shocking sight.

Tom is laid out on his bed in a pose similar to the ‘draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls’ scene from the _Titanic_. Candles are lit around the room. Candles that Elsa usually lights when both are really in the mood and it’s supposed to be something really magical and special. They cast a soft, flickering light over the room, highlighting the dips and curves in Tom’s body. His skin looks impossibly smooth and other than a little discoloration from his brief stint at the center, it’s nearly flawless.

Tom is by no means bad looking. He’s actually quite beautiful. The new haircut does him a lot of good. It emphasizes the sharpness of his cheekbones and gives him a slightly more mature look than his curly hair did.

Chris is so stunned by the display and the surprise of it all that he doesn’t know what to do. He stands there with a towel around his waist, hair still dripping from the shower, mouth slightly open like a loon. When he doesn’t make a move, Tom does. He leans up on his elbows, allowing Chris a full view of the elegant curve of his back and ass. He looks down briefly, eyelashes fluttering before looking back up at Chris with large, blue eyes. Chris manages to find his voice, keeping a tight grip on his towel.

“Tom, what are you doing?”

Tom bites his bottom lip. “I thought you might like to have some company before Miss Elsa came home.” He shifts on the bed a little. “I don’t know what you like, but I am willing to learn how to make you feel good, sir. I can do whatever you like. If you don’t want Miss Elsa to know, then I won’t say anything.”

It’s Tom’s odd behaviour that always throws Chris off his game. Sometimes he thinks he knows what he’s doing and other times Tom does something like this and it leaves Chris reeling to figure out what he did wrong. Owning a slave is not a simple matter. It never was and never will be.

“Since when did I tell you that I wanted this?” Chris asks.

“I thought—I thought that you would like another form of payment for all the favours you’ve done for me, sir.”

Favours? What favours?

Those favours.

“I thought I made it clear that I don’t what this type of . . . service from you. You don’t need to do this for me.”

Tom deflates a little. He sits up on the bed, placing his feet on the floor with his hands over his lap. He looks up at Chris with watery eyes. He looks lost.

 “I wish you would tell me what’s going on,” Chris says softly.

“Do you need anything from me, sir?”

“No, I don’t. I just want to know what’s going on with you. I want to know why you’re still insisting to pay me like-like this.”

Tom looks like he’s going to cry.

“Just get out,” Chris says, pointing to the door.

Tom nods and gets up. He walks past Chris with a faint smell of sweet body lotion. He must’ve used some of Elsa’s products from the bathroom before coming here. He walks to his room and closes the door.

Chris shuts the door to his own room and leans back against it. He flicks on the light. The bed is set up for a night of love making. The covers are turned down and the pillows are up against the bedframe so everything is out of the way. He blows out the candles first and makes up the bed. The candles aren’t as soft now, so he puts them back in their proper place in the closet. (How the _hell_ did Tom find them?) He puts on his clothes and just collapses on the bed for a moment.

There’s always a hurdle or two to jump over when getting a slave. Chris is just starting to figure out how complicated it can be. He supposes that the foot rub, the haircut, and helping Tom wash the dishes must’ve sent a message to Tom. Maybe Tom thinks that even though Chris and Elsa aren’t asking for anything else that he still has to repay them in any form he can think of. His body is really the only thing he can still offer as a type of payment.

Chris rearranges the pillows and bed covers before leaving his room and standing before Tom’s door. He knocks on it softly. “Tom, I think we need to talk.”

Tom opens the door. He’s dressed again. “Do you need anything, sir?” He’s not looking Chris in the eye.

“Can we just talk? Please? I really need to know what I’m doing wrong here to give you the impression that I want to have . . . sex with you.”

“Whatever you like, sir.” Tom sounds so tired, but Chris decides that’s something they can bring up later.

They head downstairs into the kitchen. Chris feels like he needs a drink, and it’s still fairly early in the night, so he goes to the fridge to pull out a beer. “Do you want one?”

Tom shakes his head and sits down at the kitchen table. Chris pops off the cap and sits down at the table, tacking a long sip from the cold drink. It goes down quite nicely.

“So,” Chris says. He’s not even sure where to start. There’s just so much. “Do you understand what your purpose here is?”

Tom nods. “Yes, sir. I’m here because you needed me to help you in any way.”

“Yeah, and that means taking care of India and help keep the house tidy. Not trying to get me into bed just because Elsa’s out of the house.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll remember that next time.”

“No. No, Tom, it’s not your fault. You’re in this position that makes you believe that everything bad that happens to you is your fault and everything good means you have to pay us back in some way. I know the past few weeks have been strange for us: you going to the center, us trying to make you feel better, the haircut, helping you clean the kitchen when the dishwasher wasn’t working. What I’m trying to say is you don’t need to pay us back for anything extra. We do this because we want to. Don’t feel obligated to pay us back for anything. Okay?”

Tom is slumped in his seat. The last number of the tattoo on his skin is visible from under his shirt. Any shirt he wears leaves that thin black ‘2’ visible. If he wears a shirt with a higher neckline, then, yeah, the tattoo would be completely covered.

“May I speak freely, sir?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

“I can’t afford to think like that, sir. If-if I slip for even one second, then I’ll start believing that I’m not . . . this. And once that gets into my head, I’ll forget what I am. And-and it’s not easy to remember everything that you and Miss Elsa want and need and what you don’t like about me or things that I do. And then you’ll start to wonder if I’m a bad slave and then you’ll probably want to get rid of me because I’m just not what you’re expecting and then I’ll have to go back and start all over again like I usually do and just . . .” With his voice rising in pitch and speed, Tom has to stop talking so he can breathe. He brings up a hand to cover his mouth, as if to stop himself from saying anything else that might get himself into trouble. “I can’t do this, sir. Not anymore.”

Chris understands. He does. Tom is afraid of slipping out of his training. His return to the center must’ve reminded him of his place. It must’ve terrified him.

“Are you afraid we’ll punish you?”

Tom nods.

“Do you think we’ll get rid of you?”

He nods.

“Are you afraid of us?”

When Tom nods again, Chris feels like yelling.

“I-I-I know you mean well, sir,” Tom says. “I know that. I do. You have given me a safe home, but I just can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs. You could just get bored of me in a couple of years or months and then you’ll get rid of me like everyone does. Or-or-or you’ll just decide that I’m just not good enough, and you think you can do a better job training me than the people at the center.” Tom wipes away at the bottom of the his eyes to gather the tears gathering there, sniffling, while Chris sits quietly by, trying to figure out the range of emotions that are raging away inside of him.

“Is there anything we can do to help you?” Chris asks after giving them both a moment to recover.

Tom shrugs. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. Why do you keep on insisting to help me? I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m a hopeless case now.” He laughs a little, that uncomfortable, short ‘eheheh’ that he does when the situation is tense.

There are many answers Chris can give to this.

The first: _because I feel bad for you because you’re in this horrible situation that you can’t get out of._

The second: _because you are so miserable all the time and I just want to see you smile for once because you light up the room when you smile._

And, finally, the third: _because my brother is a slave. My baby brother, who’s supposed to get his life started, is somewhere out in the world just like you. And I don’t know what’s happening to him, where he is, or if he’s being taken care of. And I’m scared he’s going to get hurt and that I’ll never see him again. And seeing you here like this makes me think that the worst is going to happen to him, and no one is there to look out for him. And I want to help you because helping you makes me feel better because I’m actually doing something that’s helping another human being who’s sweet and kind and doesn’t deserve this at all._

He doesn’t know how to reply. With some answers, he feels like he’s saying too little and if he says something else, he feels like he’s revealing too much about himself and that he might gush about things he can’t even say to Elsa.

Liam is the youngest of three brothers with a considerable age gap between him and the second oldest, Chris. He’s the baby of the family and always seen as such. Liam could be a little difficult, a little rowdy since he was always a little bit spoiled and in a different age group than that of his brothers. (Chris was already in his second year of university when Liam stepped into high school.) He was generally a nice guy with a little too much energy. Sometimes he did stupid things and got into trouble for it, usually just a warning, nothing too serious. But then he had to go drinking with his buddies and get into a serious accident. No one died, but Liam—along with one of his friends—was found guilty for driving under the influence, a serious offense that could warrant a penalty of slavery depending on the severity of the crime.

So that was it. Because of Liam’s stupidity and foolish nature, he ended up at the nearest center being fitted with a cuff and tattoo like Tom. For about four months the family had frequent contact with Liam. He made weekly or bi-weekly phone calls with his parents. (Chris found out everything from his mother usually the day after Liam made contact.) ‘ _I’m okay’_ was really the only thing he said. He kept the nature of his ownership a secret as if to make their mother feel any better about the situation. He would try to keep the phone calls as light as possible, but Leonie Hemsworth knew her sons better than they’d like. She always told Chris that Liam was not doing well. She could hear it in the way he talked and used certain words, she said.

After those four months, Liam was not heard from again. They hoped for a phone call, but as the weeks turned into months, it was clear that Liam did not have access to a phone. As month ten rolls on and month eleven approaches, Chris knows his parents still hope for a phone call or any word from their wayward son. Luke, the oldest brother, watches out for any appearance on the local markets out where he lives. Chris does, too. They all do. They know Liam’s number: KL-912. The best scenario would be to buy Liam back and wait until the years on his sentence run out. But they don’t know if he’s local still, or if he’s even still in the country. Tom is proof that slaves can travel very far away from home.

That’s why Chris wants to take care of Tom and give him a safe place to live for the time being. He probably has family back home in England somewhere worried sick about him. Wouldn’t they want to know that their son is being taken care of after being who knows how long away from home? (This sparks an idea in Chris’s mind.)He hopes that somewhere someone is doing the same for Liam.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence for Chris to get his head in order, he finally replies. “My brother is a slave. I don’t know what it’s like on your end, but if I were your family, I would want to know who has my brother and to know he’s being taken care of. And after seeing what happened to you, I just couldn’t let you go knowing that people hurt you just because they could.”

Tom rests his head on his palm, head turned away. Chris sees one tear and feels like crying himself. Tom has been through much in his life. Chris isn’t sure how long he’s been a slave, but it must’ve been a long time. How long has it been since he’s had a day where he could just relax and not have to worry about being a slave?

They don’t say anything more that night. Tom cries and Chris sits by with his beer. Enough has been said that night. They’ll continue this another night—perhaps with Elsa there because she’ll actually know what to say between a slave that is afraid to speak and a man who’s a just a bit emotionally constipated.

Chris gets Tom a drink of water before he heads up to bed. Tom takes the glass with him before going up the stairs and into the bathroom to probably wash his face. Chris goes to bed shortly after he finishes his drink. He’s awake when Elsa comes home, and he does something he hasn’t done since India was born: burst into tears.[  
](http://inanesanity.tumblr.com/)


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom thinks that Sebastian is . . . odd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the emotional roller coaster during the last chapter. This one is a little less heavy duty, but I'm glad you all like it so far! I have many plans for this story. So please show me your support by leaving kudos and comments.

Sebastian Cook drove Tom and himself downtown. The houses here were older, closer together, and narrower. The common substance used was a reddish brown brick. They drove to an apartment building that had at least twenty floors. Sebastian parked in the parking lot and told Tom to get out. He collected his bag from the floor of the car and followed Sebastian into the lobby of the building. They took the elevator up to the twelfth floor. Sebastian took out his keys and unlocked one of the doors in the empty hall way.

The apartment was nice and large. It was a good place for two people to live together. There were two bedrooms, but one was being used as an office. Sebastian showed him around the apartment, telling Tom that the bedroom was his. There was a queen sized bed inside of it with a closet and dresser to hold what few sets of clothes Tom had.

In the living room area of the apartment, there was a sliding door that led out onto a balcony. Sebastian opened up the door a bit to let some fresh air into the apartment.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“It’s nice, sir.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought when I looked at this place. It’s got a nice view out the window here, and it’s not all that far from everything that you need. So. Why don’t you go put your stuff away in the bedroom and I’ll get some lunch started?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom went into the bedroom and set his bag on the large bed. The closet and dresser were completely empty. So Sebastian must have a second house. Then what was the purpose of this place? He decided not to dwell on it too much and set about putting his clothing away in the dresser. Afterwards he took the time to look out the bedroom window. They were fairly high up. Everything looked so small from up here. It wasn’t as nice as Mistress Hori’s flat, but it was a good place to stay.

Sebastian was pulling food from the fridge, probably to make sandwiches. He smiled when he saw Tom and pulled out some plates and glasses from the kitchen cabinets.

“Hey!” he said. “What do you think of your room?”

“It’s nice, sir,” Tom replied.

“Well, it’s all yours. No one else stays here but me, but I, uh, I have another place to stay. I’m afraid I won’t be here much during the week. It’ll just be you for the most part. You’ll see me a lot during the weekends and maybe during the week if I can get away for a few hours.

“So. That means for food and anything else you need, we’ll do weekly trips say on Saturday mornings. You can just write a list up during the week of things you need, and we’ll go together, all right?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Once Sebastian was sure that Tom was all right, he said he had to go right away and would see Tom in a few days if he could get away from work. He went to the front door and put on his shoes. He turned to look at Tom before he left.

“Before I forget, there’s a list of numbers by the phone if you ever need to get in contact with me. And feel free to use the computer in the other room. Um. Do you have any questions for me before I leave?”

Tom nodded. “What would you like me to do, sir?”                                                                                                         

“Just settle in. Take it easy for a few days, all right?

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian left, and Tom closed the door after him. He stepped back into the kitchen to make himself some lunch and went to living room to settle down on the couch and see what was on TV. The TV filled the silence, but he didn’t know what to do. He’d been left alone without a set list of chores to complete. This was odd for him. He didn’t know what to do with himself and felt a little useless and out of place. What was he to do? He decided that after lunch he would look around the apartment.

Mostly Tom channel surfed. He hadn’t realized how long it’d been since he watched TV. He would watch it with the kids at the Millers, but that was all kid’s television. He didn’t know much about American programming and found that he had no interest in television anymore. Not even the news mattered to him, but still he clicked through the channels because he had nothing else to do that afternoon.

The rest of his day turned out to be very quiet.

* * *

For three days Tom was alone in the apartment. He cooked for himself and cleaned up afterwards. He explored the apartment, checking out his surroundings and becoming familiar with where everything was. There were two storage closets opposite of the bedroom doors. One held the washer and dryer and a few sets of towels and bed sheets. The other was empty except for a few storage containers, also empty.

It was strange having absolutely nothing to do but look after himself. He felt like he should be doing something instead of sitting around the apartment, waiting for Sebastian to come back home. He felt like going outside to walk along the streets and get familiar with the neighbourhood. But he kept thinking that if he did, then Sebastian might come home and find him missing. He didn’t want to mess things up with his new owner.

He went to bed on that third night around eleven. He was falling out of his habits of rising early. While it was nice to be able to sleep in, he felt as if his purpose was no longer existent. What was a slave that didn’t have any orders? He didn’t know what to do with himself with these empty hours.

He woke up when the door opened. He looked over to see who it was and saw Sebastian. He sat up in bed and got to his feet.

“Did I wake you?” Sebastian asked quietly.

Because no one had ever asked Tom this question before, he didn’t respond because he didn’t know how to.

“Well, I was just coming to check up on you. See if you were all right.”

“I am, sir.”

Sebastian nodded. “Good. That’s good. I’ll, uh, talk to you in the morning then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian closed the door and allowed Tom to get back into bed and fall asleep.

Sebastian Cook was an odd man.

* * *

The next morning Tom got up and went into the kitchen for some breakfast. Sebastian was already there, making some coffee. He smiled when he saw Tom.

“Good morning, Tom,” he said. “Coffee?”

“Good morning, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Tom dug out the cereal with a bowl, spoon, and milk. He sat down at the table with his breakfast, and Sebastian came over carrying two cups of steaming coffee. He set one down before Tom and took the other to his side of the table. Tom thanked him and poured some milk and sugar into it and stirred it around with a spoon.

It was a quiet breakfast. Tom didn’t know what to expect from Sebastian. He was rather calm and a complete opposite of what Master Cole was like. He wasn’t ordering Tom to do anything. He was asking Tom if he needed anything, and even cleaned up the dishes instead of asking Tom to do it. Tom could not figure out what this guy’s angle was. As nice as it was to relax a bit, Tom was a little anxious to know what he was expected to do.

“Tom,” Sebastian said. “What’s your clothing situation like?”

“It’s all right, sir,” he said.                

“No, like, I want to know how many sets of clothes you have.”

“Three, sir.”

“That’s it?”

Tom nodded.

“Hm. And what about your shoes? How are they?”

Well, they were sort of falling apart at the soles, and the right one had a hole in the side. They weren’t too great. “They’re okay,” was what Tom said.

Sebastian leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you lying to me, Tom?”

Tom panicked on the inside. With the Millers Tom didn’t have to worry about these sorts of utilitarian questions. Master Cole never asked and Mistress Lucy had a sort of intuition to when Tom needed new shoes or clothes. He was never asked. He was just given, and even then he felt like he had to repay them for the items he was given.

“I’m not going to punish you,” Sebastian said after Tom made no reply. “If that’s what you’re worried about. I just want to know. If your shoes are absolute crap, then we need to get you a new pair. I want you to be comfortable here.”

Tom nodded. “They’re not the greatest shoes, sir.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“The bottoms are falling apart.”

Sebastian nodded. “Right. Well, that means clothes and shoe shopping.” He smiled. “Why don’t you get ready and we’ll go right now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom freshened up a bit and put on his shoes. Sebastian took him out of the apartment and to the elevators. Once they were on the ground floor, they left the apartment and walked out to the car in the parking lot. Sebastian took Tom to the nearest mall. Tom was a little overwhelmed by being in public again. He realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he was in a public place. There was the hospital trip a year ago, but Tom didn’t count that one. No, the last time he could remember being in an actual public place was probably when he was still with Ken. At least five years ago. He suddenly didn’t know what to do here and simply walked behind Sebastian into the mall, falling back on his training to get himself in the mall without standing there with a lost expression on his face.

They checked out several different clothing stores in the mall. Sebastian picked out the clothes for Tom and sent him off to a dressing room to try them on. He would then change into the tight jeans and t-shirts and come back out for Sebastian to see and criticize. He got a few pairs of skinny jeans which emphasized the length of his legs and the shape of his arse. His face felt hot whenever Sebastian’s eyes drifted up and down when he came out of the dressing room. When Mistress Hori did this, Tom felt a sense of pride in how he looked. When Sebastian did this, he felt more like an object.

The t-shirts they also got were tight and thin. They were nearly see-through. If they were wet, they would definitely be see-through.

To top it all off Sebastian treated Tom to a leather jacket. It wasn’t real leather, of course, since those cost a few hundred dollars, but it was good enough. It had long enough sleeves and fitted Tom quite nicely. He was surprised by Sebastian’s generosity.

After coming out with a few bags of clothes, they stopped at the shoe store. Sebastian got Tom a nice pair of running shoes and a pair of brown boots that Tom actually liked. They packed up everything into the trunk of the car before going back into the mall. This time Sebastian asked if Tom wanted anything specific.

“Anything you want,” he said. “It’s not like I’m going to need you all the time, so I want to make sure you have things you can do when you’re not busy. So. What do you want? Movies, books?”

It took a little prompting from Sebastian for Tom to be able to pick out a few books and movies for himself. He got three books and two movies. That was all he could take for himself.

Grocery shopping was the last thing to do that day. Tom pushed the cart while Sebastian picked things out of the shelves and set them down into it. As they rolled through the aisles, Sebastian asked Tom a few questions.

“Did Cole cut your hair?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian picked out a few cereals and put them into the cart. “I can tell. It’s not exactly even.”

Tom lowered his head. Despite everything he’d been through, he’d become quite self-conscious with how he looked. He couldn’t even control that anymore. His hair was never even. Hadn’t been since his time with the Bells.

“That’s fine, though,” Sebastian said, leading Tom into the soups and canned vegetables aisle. “We’ll give it some time to grow out and get it cut and styled professionally.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sebastian waved him off. “It’s nothing,” he said.

Shopping took up most of the day. They returned later in the afternoon and carried everything into the apartment. The groceries were put in their places in the kitchen, and Tom took his new clothes and books into his room. He filled two drawers of the dresser, which actually felt pretty good to do.

Sebastian made dinner that night, and Tom was a little frustrated that he had not yet been told what to do yet. But he kept quiet. If Sebastian was going to give him something to do, then he would do it on his own time. Tom just had to be patient.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” Sebastian asked.

When Tom was in university, he could talk anyone’s ear off if given a topic of interest and the chance to. But over the years, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut and his thoughts silent. People seemed to like it that way.

“I have nothing to say, sir,” he said.

“Fair enough. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

Tom nodded. “All right.”

“What did Cole make you do at his house?”

Tom told him everything. He made meals, watched the kids, cleaned each floor and every bedroom and bathroom, saw that the garbage was taken to the curb, washed the laundry, and did whatever his Master or Mistress required him to do.

“He’s had you for, what, two years?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did he decide to sell you then? It seemed like you worked well in his house.”

“He didn’t like everything I did, sir. He found faults in all of my duties.” Surely Sebastian must remember that one poker game where Tom was still nursing a black eye.

“Yeah, I saw that. Did he hit you often?”

“It was never without cause, sir.”

“That night in the basement. You looked more roughed up than usual. What happened?”

Tom swallowed and stared down at the remains of his food. His appetite was no longer there. He knew he had to answer. There was no way around it.

“I-I had, um.” He breathed in sharply. “I had sex with his wife, sir.”

Sebastian sat back in his chair. “You _what?_ ”

It was hard enough to get out the first time, and Tom didn’t know if he could repeat himself without bursting into a pile of flames. “I had sex with his wife, sir.”

“No wonder Cole seemed to be in such a bad mood that night. What did he do to you when he found out?”

“He showed me my place, sir, as he was right to do.”

“He certainly did, yeah. I mean, you slept with his _wife._ I’m surprised he didn’t chop off your dick or something like that. I mean, I assume he didn’t.”

“No, sir, he didn’t.” Tom looked down in his lap and wished that the floor would swallow him.

“What about your hand? I noticed that it was wrapped up last time I saw you.”

Tom looked at his right hand. The scars would be there for years to come. It was a bad burn, but it wasn’t one that had required medical attention. It healed up on its own just fine. Sebastian reached across the table for Tom’s hand and looked at the burn in close detail.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you afraid of Cole, Tom?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well.” He patted Tom’s hand gently. “You don’t have to worry about anything here. I’m not going to hurt you. Now, do you have any questions for me?”

Tom nodded. “What do you expect me to do, sir?”

“Oh, like, what do I want you to do around the house? Well, there’s not much except looking after the apartment. I know I’m not here every day, but I promise you that once things settle down a bit and you get used to living here, I’ll show you what I’m expecting from you. All right?”

“Yes, sir. And that’s all you expect me to do, sir?”

“For now, yeah. We’ll get to that later, but I have to get going now. Got a few errands to run yet.”

Sebastian left as soon as he could and left Tom to clean up the kitchen. Once again, he thought that Sebastian Cook was an odd man.

* * *

Sebastian did not live at the apartment. That much was evident. It appeared he was living two lives: one life was the life people expected him to have and the other was a way to break out of conformity. Tom didn’t know if Sebastian was married or had a family, but he clearly kept his two lives separated.

On Friday night Sebastian brought takeout from a nearby Swiss Chalet. It was nice not to have to cook, and the food was delicious. They sat together in the living room with their food. Sebastian had control over the remote, which was fine by Tom. He wouldn’t know what to do with it.

They settled on the comedy channel and had a nice dinner together. Tom set his empty plate on the coffee table and folded his legs under himself on the couch. Sebastian sat on the other end. Tom felt like he had to say something to break the silence. He wanted to know who his Master was and what he did for a living.

Sebastian looked like a man who worked out and ate well. He looked like a nice man that meant well. He did buy Tom new clothes, some movies and books, a new jacket, and new footwear. It was clear he cared a lot, which was such a nice change from the Millers house.

“How was your day today, sir?” asked Tom. He wasn’t used to speaking without having the permission to do so, but Sebastian’s mood was always calm and receptive, so speaking without permission around him must be okay.

“It was actually pretty good,” Sebastian said. “For once I wasn’t dealing with any difficult clients. Sometimes they can be a little difficult. They sometimes think that they know best when really it’s you.”

Given the opportunity, Sebastian went into detail about his job. He worked as a banker in the metropolis. He liked his job well enough and was paid handsomely. He liked working with his clients and being able to suggest what they do with their money and where they invest it in their lives and homes. He liked being part of their lives and in some way shaping them. It was interesting to listen to, and Tom sat back in the couch, TV forgotten, as Sebastian talked on about his life.

Tom got ready for bed around elven o’clock that night. Sebastian said goodnight to him at the door. He would be sleeping on the pullout couch in the living room. He insisted that Tom’s room was his room. He wouldn’t be intruding in on that space unless he had permission.

Tom closed the door and backed away from it. He took off his clothes and just pulled on a baggy t-shirt. He decided to read for a little while before going to sleep, so he turned on the lamp that sat on the small table by the bed. He picked up one of this three books—he got _Wuthering Heights, Fight Club,_ and a new copy of _Hamlet_ —and cracked it open to the page he was last on.

The TV was still on in the next room but very quietly. Tom decided that he actually liked it here and was grateful that Sebastian had saved him from Master Cole’s vengeful hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating is a little slow right now because I'm busy with a few other projects, but don't worry. I'll always come back to it.


	21. Chapter Twenty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something domestic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for this long wait. I had projects to do and they just snuck up on me. But now I'm back with a brand new chapter.

Chris tells Elsa everything. About finding Tom in the bedroom, the whole confession in the kitchen, and his thoughts on Liam. He’s exhausted by the time it’s all out and just blinks blearily at the ceiling afterwards. Elsa comforts him, holds him in her arms as his grief washes over him. It’s been a long time coming. He hasn’t properly assessed his feelings about Liam and quite frankly it’s a load off his mind. Holding onto all of this stuff can’t be healthy.

They talk about Tom. Chris thinks he’s doing something wrong here to confuse Tom in such a way. He doesn’t understand where he’s going wrong in the first place, and Elsa explains it to him a little. Slaves are not only expected to respond to spoken commands but the unspoken as well. Some owners expect more out of their slaves, and the slaves must learn how to please their owner without being told what to do. It’s laziness on the owners’ part and can be quite cruel. It adds stress on the slave and makes them skittish around anyone they happen to meet.

Tom happens to be one of these slaves. He wants to be the best he can be so that he won’t be punished. Perhaps he thinks that by stretching himself to the limits and going until he can’t go any further then Chris and Elsa will be pleased by him and he can have some sense of peace. If Tom keeps going like this, then surely he will drop from exhaustion and that’s not a good thing. So they’ll have to talk to him—again—and straighten out this whole mess and get to the bottom of this.

Elsa decides to talk to him privately tomorrow. Tom seems more inclined to pay back Chris than her, but that might be due to the fact that Chris was the first face he saw and Chris was the legal owner on the papers he signed. But if Tom happens to be too intimidated by Elsa, then they should both talk to Tom and have a proper discussion where then can hear about Tom’s side of the story and truly _understand_ and how to help him.

Chris has his own plan, too. He doesn’t know if it’s going to work, but he thinks that maybe this is what Tom needs.

The next day at work he takes his lunch break in his office and reads over the last bit of the contract and file he has on Tom. The last of the contract says that Chris is responsible for any damages his slave is responsible for. That makes sense. But then again it’s sort of ominous. Any owner Tom might’ve had could’ve punished him for something wrong that he did, taking the law entirely into their hands. Oh, God. Poor Tom.

The last two pages of the file contain personal information on Slave IC-782. It comes with a headshot photo that’s really old. Tom seems younger, rounder faced. There’s personal information beneath the photo.

_Date of Birth: 09/02/1981_

_Physical Appearance: blond, curly hair; blue eyes; height: 6’2”/1.87 m_

_Name: Hiddleston, Tom_

_ID: IC-782_

_Origins: London, England_

Great. Now he’s got a last name and a place to look at. Better get at it then. This might take a while.

* * *

Chris doesn’t go straight home after work. He actually stops by at the mall. Elsa texted him earlier in the day, saying they needed a few things like diapers and some milk. He decides to take a chance and stop by at the book store afterwards and pick up a few things.

Chris isn’t a big reader. He has his magazines and articles on the web. He’s just never had the time or the motivation to find books that he would actually be interested in reading.

He goes into the store, which is basically empty, and begins to browse through the shop, thinking about what Tom might like to read. He spends some time looking around, not really sure what to get. A store employee comes over to help him.

“Hello,” she says. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually, I’m trying to find some books for a friend of mine.”

“Okay then. What does this friend like to read?”

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t really know. He’s a quiet guy.”

The employee and Chris talk about Tom for a little while, and she helps him pick out a few books. In the end he buys _The Lord of the Rings_ that includes _The Hobbit,_ _To Kill a Mockingbird, The Giver,_ and _A Wrinkle in Time._ That should be enough for now. He pays for it, takes his stuff to the car, and drives back home. He’s back around six-thirty.

Elsa notices the books, and Chris doesn’t say much about it. What he’s planning to do with the books is not give them to Tom. Tom is too skittish to have anything be given to him, and he’ll probably want to try and repay Chris for the books. That’s not what Chris wants. So instead the books will be on full display in the living room, occupying the coffee table and the end table on one side of the couch. It’s kind of like baiting a stray cat to come in the house for some food, but this is a start.

They have dinner together. Tom is avoiding Chris. He keeps his gaze down and doesn’t say anything. He does the dishes without a word, and Chris and Elsa leave him to it. They talk quietly together in the living room.

“What’d you say to him?” Chris asks.

“I just asked him about what happened. And then he got a little scared that I was going to do something to him. But I talked to him, said that I wasn’t angry and just worried about him. He said that he understands now and that he’ll remember what not to do in the future. I don’t really think he fully understands, but it’s a start.”

It’s not a great thing to hear. Tom must be embarrassed about last night. It’s one thing for your partner to lay themselves out all artistically on the bed and realize that tonight is not the night, but for a slave to do it and be rejected, it must feel like it’s their fault they were rejected. Like they weren’t good enough and had to show that they were more appealing than originally thought. There’s also another thought that strikes Chris. Did his rejection make Tom think that he wasn’t beautiful or desirable? Does he think himself ugly because of this?

Chris hears Tom shifting around in the kitchen. He pulls Elsa closer to his side and wraps his arms around her. She settles against his chest.

The night is quiet. When Tom is done in the kitchen, he tends to India. Elsa and Chris have both gotten lazy with the housework, but they’ve both agreed that keeping Tom busy is the best thing for him. That way he doesn’t have to worry or stress about anything. Keeping Tom busy is a major priority. The more work he has, the less fidgety he is. He doesn’t seem to mind the work and does everything with near perfection. He seems happy, Chris thinks.

Tom joins them in the living room when he finishes everything he needs to for the night. He sits in the chair, legs tucked up onto the cushion with the rest of him. Chris notices that he looks at the new books on the tables. He doesn’t touch them or anything, but simply looks. Chris waits. When it’s getting late and Elsa is yawning, they decide to head upstairs and go to bed. Tom is still looking at the books every now and then. He stands when they stand.

“You can borrow one,” Chris says. “If you’d like.”

Tom looks to him. He’s still a little hesitant, and the colour spotting his cheeks is an indication of lingering embarrassment. “Th-thank you, sir.”

Chris leaves as Tom picks up one of the books and reads the back of it. He goes upstairs and gets ready for bed. He lies down next to Elsa.

His heart feels lighter now, knowing that Tom isn’t as ruffled this night. Maybe they’re onto something.

* * *

Over the next few days there is a subtle change in Tom’s behaviour. He’s calmer now, not as twitchy. He only reads at night when he’s done all of his chores, but he can put away a book like nothing else. His fingers skim the pages, flipping them over delicately. It’s nice, seeing Tom read. It’s natural for him. It’s normal.

Every few days he moves onto a new book. Late at night if Chris has to take a piss or look at a fussy India, he always peeks into Tom’s room briefly. Usually Tom is up late at night still reading, sitting up against the bed frame, biting the tip of his thumb while paging through the book with his other hand.

Chris’s sleeping habits don’t exactly improve over the next few days. Either he wakes up too frequently or he can’t fall asleep. And since he doesn’t want to bother Elsa with his tossing and turning, he goes downstairs to the living room to sit down on the couch with the TV on mute or very low volume.

The kitchen light is one when he treads down the steps. He peeks inside. It’s Tom. He’s moving around the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea, which he always does, but it must be something calming for him, something familiar.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen.

Tom jumps at first and turns around with wide eyes. He remembers to breathe, and his shoulders slouch a little from recognizing who it is. “Not really,” he says. “Thought I’d come down and read a little bit.”

“What are you reading, by the way?” Chris asks as he sits down at the table and waits for Tom to make his tea.

“I just started _The Fellowship of the Ring_ ,” he says. “Finished up _The Hobbit_ and decided that I just couldn’t leave it there, and the whole trilogy is one of those series that I could read over and over again and still find new and exciting details.”

“Yeah, pretty good movies, too.”

“Have you . . . read the books before?” He sounds a little wary.

“Once when I was eighteen or nineteen. Don’t get me wrong. Wonderful books and beautiful writing, but I’m just not that big of reader and I’m always busy.”

Tom frowns. “But then why—”

“Tom, the water is boiling.” Chris points to the kettle, and Tom turns around to flick off the switch and pour the boiling water into the cup. When his tea is ready, Chris stands up. “Come on. Let’s move into the living room.”

They resituate themselves in the living room, Chris sprawled out on the couch and Tom in his usual chair, curled up and content. Chris turns on the TV, immediately turns down the volume until it’s barely audible and takes to channel surfing. He settles for the Discovery Channel. That’s always a reliable choice.

“You didn’t buy the books for yourself,” Tom says quietly, nursing his tea.

Chris looks at him. They stare at each other. Chris stretches out on the couch, putting his arms up over his head. “Thought you might like to do something when me and Elsa are both gone during the day.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

Tom looks away, fidgeting in his seat. “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to.”

“But I really wanted to, and you seem to enjoy them. So if you want more, just ask and I’ll go pick some up for you. It’s really not that big of deal.”

Tom’s thumbs graze over the porcelain of his mug. He blows at the rising, curling steam and takes a tiny sip. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“You’re very welcome, Tom.”

* * *

Chris falls asleep on the couch. It’s not a deep sleep. He can still hear everything that goes on around him, and he’s a little bit aware of his surroundings. But opening his eyes is out of the question. Someone turns off the TV and the kitchen lights. A blanket is pulled over him. Hands smooth over the top, making sure it tucks him in on all sides.

“Goodnight, Chris,” someone says, but sounds too far for Chris to reach.

He just grunts a little in his sleep, and whoever was there leave quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I got for today. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.


	22. Chapter Twenty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Sebastian and Tom have a night on the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me with these faster updates. And thank you guys for the comments and the patience. Writing isn't easy sometimes, but knowing that you guys are here makes it all worth it.
> 
> Let's begin!

Sebastian always made sure Tom was all right and cared for. He didn’t do anything or expect anything from Tom, which made him more and more at ease with each passing day. But there were some things that still made the panic and fear creep in.

Sometimes Sebastian would say something that would make Tom’s blood run cold.

One day they sat in the living room together when Sebastian said, “How come you don’t call me ‘master’ like you did Cole?”

It was offhanded, meant to be casual, but Tom couldn’t stop that thread of fear from creeping down his spine. Tom knew his mannerisms well enough, but after living with a man like Cole Miller, he just couldn’t get out of the frame of mind that that man was not his Master.

“I’m-I-I’m sorry, sir—Master. I just . . . I guess I—”

“Slow down, Tom. It’s all right. I get it. You’ve been with Cole a long time that I guess it’s hard to transition sometimes. It’s all right.”

Sebastian—or should he say _Master_ Sebastian—did not say what his preferences was. To be called ‘sir’ or ‘Master.’ Tom decided to stay on the safe side and address him as Master from now on.

It wasn’t like Master Sebastian was trying to be mean by pointing out Tom’s faults. He wasn’t like Master Cole. He was just asking honest questions that he wanted to know the answers to. There was nothing wrong with that. . . . Was there?

* * *

A week later, Tom began to get a sense of what Master Sebastian wanted from him. It started with the, uh, _favours_. Sometimes Master Sebastian would stay for a night during the week if work was especially trying.. But during those nights when he stayed, sometimes he required something. Something that was supposed to be simple. Something like a foot rub.

“Hey, Tom, can you come over here?”

Tom, from the kitchen, came into the living room. Master Sebastian lay on the couch with his legs stretched across the floor.

“Listen, I’ve been on my feet _all day_ , and I was wondering if you’d mind giving me a foot rub.”

Tom nodded and got down on the floor by his feet. He looked up at his Master who said, “Thanks,” and pulled the sock off of his left foot. He placed the foot on his lap and pressed in gently with his thumbs. He started on the arch and worked up and down the sole. Master Sebastian groaned with relief above him. After about ten minutes or so, he switched to the right foot and gave it the same treatment.

“You’re really good at this,” Master Sebastian said. “Thanks, Tom. That did wonders.”

Tom was free to go back into the kitchen and clean up the after dinner mess.

From the favours it progressed to close proximity and touching. A hand on his shoulder, his arm, leaning against him when he helped Tom do the dishes. Tom thought nothing of them at the moment. He didn’t even really notice the change in behaviour. It was subtle enough Tom didn’t make anything of the harmless gestures. Sometime he’d lean into them just as he did with Mistress Lucy. It was nice not having to flinch around anyone or walk on eggshells. He felt relieved to have an owner like Master Sebastian. It was a breath of fresh air.

* * *

Eventually when Tom’s hair grew out, Master Sebastian took him out of the apartment to get a haircut. It was nice to be able to step into a hair salon for a professional to look over his hair.

When a hairdresser was free to look at Tom, they both stepped up to the front desk. Since Master Sebastian was the owner, he was the one who said everything.

“Is it the two of you or just one?” the hairdresser—whose nametag said Robyn—asked.

“Just the one,” Master Sebastian said. “It’s just my slave here. He needs a haircut.”

“Okay. And can I get your name please?”

“Sebastian Cook.”

“All right. And I can take you right now.”

She led them to her chair and swiveled the chair to the side to allow Tom to sit down. She swept the cape over his front and buttoned it up behind his neck while he got settled in the chair. He watched his Master in the mirror as he looked at Tom with a sharp intensity and focus.

“So,” Robyn said. “What would you like done with him?”

“Well, I want it to be more tamed with a little less volume. It’s a little too . . . fluffy right now. And curly. I’d like it to be a little straighter. Like, more waves and less curls.”

Robyn picked up her spray bottle and comb. She sprayed the water over Tom’s hair and began to tug her comb through his rat’s nest. “With his type of hair, it’ll be hard to make the waves stay. With humid weather and whenever it dries, the curls will come right back. To give you what you want, I can suggest some products and tools and some instructions for you to maintain the look you want.”

Master Sebastian nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Robyn worked her magic with Tom’s hair. She did exactly what his Master wanted and made Tom’s hair less curly and more wavy. Afterwards she explained to Tom what he should do to maintain the look. She gave Master Sebastian the necessary products and tools and added it all onto the growing bill and sent them on their way afterwards.

As they were leaving the hair salon, Master Sebastian looked at Tom and smiled. “Perfect,” he said, and Tom felt himself smile in return.

* * *

Later on a Friday night, Master Sebastian decided to take Tom out that night for dinner and some fun. (He didn’t indicate what that fun meant.) Tom was sort of excited to be out of the apartment for once. The frequent trips into the city were actually quite nice once he got past his initial nervousness and reluctance. He didn’t know what Master Sebastian had in store for him, but he bet it was going to be something nice and exciting. Especially for it to be on a Friday night.

“Why don’t you go to your room and get dressed into some of those nice, new clothes?” Master suggested.

“Yes, Master.”

Tom went to his room as he was told and picked out a set of clothes for him to wear. He settled on a thin, gray shirt with black skinny jeans. He put on his new jacket and boots and stepped out of the room to see his Master, who was smiling when he walked through the door

“You look absolutely gorgeous.”

When Tom was closed enough, Master Sebastian tugged him closer with an arm thrown around his waist. Tom looked down and held still, holding his breath a little.

“Let’s head out.”

Master Sebastian drove them into town, going to the nicer parts of town. He parked the car, and they walked down the street together, past the posh buildings full of lights and people to the end of the street. The building they were entering was some sort of club. The bodyguard there checked Master Sebastian’s card and allowed them in after slapping a wristband on Tom’s left wrist.

“Club policy,” Master said. “Every slave that enters has to be marked by a wristband so that the employees know who to serve.”

And since the band was neon orange, it would be highly visible in dim lighting.

Master Sebastian led Tom into a separate area that already had several men lounging around on chairs. A few had slaves with them. Others didn’t. Master Sebastian took the last empty seat, and Tom was left to stand behind his seat. A hostess came by and took drink orders from the men.

“Is this him?” one man asked.

Master Sebastian nodded. “Yes. This is Tom. I bought him a couple of weeks ago.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s perfect.” He looked up at Tom and reached up to pull Tom closer to the side of his seat. “His last owner broke him in right. Lucky for me that the man was interested in selling him.”

“What’s he able to do?”

“Nothing yet. I’m easing him into the house right now. Thought I’d start training him this weekend, maybe the next. He’s going to be a sweet boy when I’m done with him. Aren’t you, Tom?”

“Yes, Master.”

Tom was a little clueless as to what was being said among the group, so he kept his posture and stance to the side of his Master’s chair. He took in his surroundings and the situation he was in. He looked at the other slaves there in the area. He didn’t know what they were used for if they were slaves or pets. He couldn’t read their faces, so he didn’t know if they were scared or happy to be here. Everything was shrouded here, and he couldn’t tell if this was a good or bad place to be in for the likes of him.

This night was just a night to catch up on with friends. Tom’s stomach growled, and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Wasn’t he promised dinner? He felt like he was. The men talked and they drank together. The slaves stood silently by.

The night lagged on, and when the men had a few more drinks, they began to get a little more hands on with the slaves they brought. Some had male slaves, others had females. They pulled them onto their laps or had them kneel at their feet. The slaves weren’t pets, not in the sense that Tom was familiar with Mistress Hori. They were something else. Not companions. This was too intimate and familiar. Tom didn’t know the term for this type of service—not the proper one anyway. Sex slaves came to mind, but that sounded too blunt to be the proper term, but it was all he had.

Master Sebastian only had one drink that night. He had to drive that night, so by the time he left the alcohol would be absorbed. He sat low in his chair with his legs spread wide. His left hand was trailing over Tom’s arm lazily. Sometimes it would go to his side, drift down to his waist before sweeping over his arse. His arm wound around Tom’s waist and tugged him onto the armrest of the seat. He looked up at Tom and smiled. Tom smiled back.

“Are you feeling a bit warm?” Master asked. Tom nodded. “Take off your jacket then.” Tom did as he was told and stripped off the leather jacket. Master Sebastian took the jacket and set it over the other armrest. “Better?” Tom nodded. “Good. I promise we’ll get some food after we’re done here, all right?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master Sebastian grinned. “Good boy.”

There was a man in the corner chair of the room who was looking at Tom rather intently. He was a very strong built man that was probably big everywhere. Tom did not like the way he looked at him.

* * *

They left the club around one o’clock that morning. They decided to have a pizza that night since so very few places were still open. And by then Tom didn’t care what he was eating as long as he was eating. He had half the pizza by himself, much to his Master’s amusement.

With his Master in good spirits, Tom was at ease in the house. Sure, the club was a little weird and there was still a lot that he was confused about, but he was safe. Master Sebastian was a good Master who would treasure Tom. It felt nice to be looked over properly.

“Some of the men were jealous of you,” Master Sebastian said as they stood in the kitchen, watching Tom clear away the used dishes. “You should’ve seen the way they looked at you.” He stepped behind Tom and hooked his arms around his middle, pulling him back against his chest. “I bet most of them wanted to have you right there.” His breath fanned over the back of his neck. “I knew it was the right decision to buy you. Cole didn’t see your potential. He always was a short-sighted kind of guy. Ever since that night when he made you kneel, I saw right away what I could make of you.”

Tom was nervous. His heart raced away in his chest when Master suggested they go into Tom’s room to finish off the night. He let himself be led down the short hallway to the room by the hand. The bedroom door was closed softly as Tom stood in the center of the room. Master Sebastian came up behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders.

“How old are you, Tom?”

“Twenty-seven, Master.”

“Mm. You look younger than that.” He massaged Tom’s shoulder a bit before dipping his hands down to the hem of Tom’s t-shirt to get to the skin on his back. “When Cole punished you for having sex with his wife, what did he do to you exactly?”

“He beat me, he burned my hand, he shaved my hair, he tore apart my books, and he . . . he sort of made me . . .”

“What did he make you do, Tom?”

“He made me . . . service him, Master.”

“How?”

“With my mouth, Master.”

“How many times?”

“Just one time, Master.”

“Guess he thought that once was enough to show you what he _could_ do to you. Did he ever fuck you, though?”

Tom shook his head. “No, Master.”

“Has anyone ever fucked you before?”

“No, Master.”

Master Sebastian hummed low and nuzzled the back of Tom’s head with his nose, breathing him in. “Tom. I want you to take off your clothes. I want to see you.”

“Yes, Master.”

Once Master Sebastian stepped away, Tom was able to take off his clothes. It wasn’t sexy or anything seductive. In fact, Tom almost fell over while trying to peel of his skinnies. Once he folded up his clothes in a neat pile, he turned to face his Master, blushing to the tips of his ears.

“Look at you,” he said softly, stepping forward to admire Tom’s form. “Not a mark on you. Perfect.” His fingers drifted along Tom’s flat stomach. “I guess all the bruises Cole left have healed now. The scars will, too,” he said, holding Tom’s right hand. “They’ll take more time, but they will fade. Other than that you are remarkable. Tell me, Tom. What did your other owners use you as?”

Tom told him what he was used for in the past as he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt and took off his tie and belt. He listened well, becoming very interested in Tom’s time as Mistress Hori’s pet. He excused himself for a moment and went to go find something. He returned with a bottle of lube.

“Get on the bed, Tom.”

He did as he was told, feeling shy and self-conscious when he saw the bottle.

“Um. On your back first. I just want to be able to see you.”

Tom lay on his back just off center of the bed. He didn’t know what to do with his arms or legs, so he just kept them straight and loose, pliant.

“Can you put your hands up by your head?” Tom did as he was told and rested his hands on the pillow on either side of his head.

Master Sebastian sat on the bed and looked over Tom like he was some sort of masterpiece or a present waiting to be opened. He started out by touching Tom, running his hands all over his body to learn its secrets. He mapped out the sensitive parts, the places that made Tom quiver with barely contained laughter. He figured out the spots that made Tom quiver with an entirely different effect: pleasure. He teased Tom’s nipples, determining their effect on Tom. He pinched them, twisted them, pulled them, but was never harsh or cruel. He was being playful, which left Tom squirming.

His hands drifted lower still to Tom’s stomach, hips, and his thighs. Tom eased into the attention, letting his guard down a little. He closed his eyes, let his head roll back on the pillow, writhed around on the clean bed sheets. From the attention Tom was half-hard. When a hand closed around his cock, he opened his eyes, breath hitching in his throat. Master Sebastian laughed.

“Don’t worry, Tom,” he said. “I’m not going to do much tonight. I want to take my time with you. You’re just so responsive. Besides, I think you deserve a reward for your good behaviour. Don’t you think so?” He stroked Tom’s length, using just enough grip to have Tom bucking up into his grasp. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand was coated in lube. He knew what he was doing when bringing Tom closer and closer to the edge. Tom arched into the maddening touch, wishing for his release but getting none. Master brought him right to the edge before backing off until Tom had control over himself once more.

“Do you want it, Tom?” He toyed with the slit on the head.

“Please, Master,” he begged, surprised at his own clarity of voice.

“What do you want?”

“Let me come, Master.”

“All right. Then come, Tom.”

He closed his eyes, every muscle going taught as his orgasm washed over him. Master Sebastian came to lie beside him and hold him as he recovered.

“Just as I thought,” Master said. “Perfect. And just what I needed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a peak of Sebastian's night life! Don't worry. We'll learn more about him soon.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter Twenty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris's plan comes into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't read over this chapter so there may be mistakes. And I've got to go to bed so I will see you guys next time!

Three weeks after the bedroom incident, Chris has made headway in his plan. It took a lot of phone calls, emails, and a few favours some people owe him. Over the course of a few days he’s been exchanging emails with a woman by the name of Diana Hiddleston of Great Britain. Although Chris was nervous when he sent the first email, Diana was quite nice in her responses to him. While she questioned the mysterious nature of his first email, he quickly replied with his true intentions as to why he contacted her.

_The reason why I’ve contacted you is because I have met someone I think you might know. A few months ago I was in a car accident, and my insurance company saw it fit to send me a slave to help me and my family around the house considering I had a broken leg. The slave they gave me goes by the name of Tom Hiddleston. Since then I have applied for and received full ownership over him._

_I know that this puts you and me in an odd situation. Rest assured, my wife and I are taking care of him and doing everything we can to make our house a safe environment to live in. My current goal is to help you and Tom get into contact with each other and possibly, one day, send him home._

_Below I have attached a photo of Tom. Please let me know if you wish to get into contact with Tom and we can set something up that works for the both of us._

_Sincerely, Chris._

The photo he attached was just a side shot of Tom doing a few dishes in the kitchen. Chris took it as discretely as he could, but Tom still turned his head to the side to see what he was doing but turned away with a small smiled on his lips.

He sent the email three days ago and is still waiting for a reply. He hopes that Diana is just taking her time in replying and isn’t scared away from him. Chris really, really wants to give this gift to Tom. He thinks it’ll be good for Tom to be in contact with his family. To have some sort of familiarity again.

Of course he tells Elsa about everything he’s been up to at work. She agrees that getting into contact with Tom’s family is the right thing to do, but she’s skeptical about his plan on getting him back home. They have no idea how long his sentence is and how much time he has left. They also don’t know if they are keeping him forever forever. You can never be too sure if you are keeping a slave despite your present intentions. Chris understands this, so sending Tom home will be part two of this plan.

On the fourth day, Chris gets to work and sees an email waiting in his inbox for him. It’s from Diana. She’s finally made her reply. He’ll get to that on his lunch break.

When he does read the letter, it’s good news.

_Sorry for the late reply. I had to take a moment to think about what I would say._

_First of all, thank you so much for taking care of my son. It has been quite some time since I’ve heard from him._

_I’ve thought a lot about your offer and I would very much like to contact my son. Perhaps we can set something up over the phone or possibly on Skype? Please let me know when you’re available and we can set up a date._

_Diana_

Chris knows it’s time to tell Tom about this.

* * *

He’s printed off the emails he’s been exchanging with Diana and takes them home. Tom might want to see something when he tells him tonight.

Chris greets Elsa with a kiss and a tight embrace, showing her the letters and telling her that they should tell Tom tonight. Preferably after dinner when everyone is mostly settled down for the night.

Since the bedroom incident, Tom seems to have moved on. He’s no longer embarrassed about having displayed himself out like that for Chris, but he does still seem—Chris doesn’t know—shier or warier of Chris. Because he can’t pay back Chris or Elsa in the only way he can, Tom still goes out of his way to make sure his owners are comfortable. He asks them if they need anything from the kitchen, moves around the house silently as he completes a whole manner of chores, some things that don’t even really need to be done. He’s obviously showing how grateful he is, but sometimes it seems a little excessive.

On the bright side, though, Tom seems much happier these days. He smiles more freely and is more open to striking up conversation without needing to be prompted. He’s grown a little more confident in interacting with Chris and Elsa on a daily basis and is starting to ask for things that he needs every once in a while. (He never asks for much. Maybe a new book or something small like that.) The one thing that he still won’t do is go outside. Chris sometimes asks him about that, if he ever wants to go for a run again. But Tom always shrugs him off, saying he’s got enough to worry about at home to keep him busy.           

After dinner and when Tom has settled in his chair in the living room, Elsa nudges Chris. It’s time to tell him.

“Tom,” he says, sitting forward. “We’ve got something to talk to you about.

“What about?” Tom is looking curiously at them. Chris is somewhat surprised that Tom is actually interested in what they have to say instead of cowering and wondering if he’s getting punished. It’s a huge improvement, and Chris hopes that what he tells Tom improves his mood even more.

“I’ve been contacting someone you know recently,” he says, not exactly how to word all of it. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I thought it’d be best if I contacted your family. I don’t know how it might be on your end, but if I could I would want to know how my brother was doing, if he was okay.”

“Who-who did you speak with?” Tom asks quietly, looking extremely guarded.

“I’ve been emailing your mother for a few days now.” Elsa moves to hand Tom the printed email correspondences. “It got to a point where she’s open to maybe having a phone call or a video chat session online. It’s up to you if you want to go through with this. We can set up a date and time and you can choose the method you want.”

Tom doesn’t say anything. He holds the papers in a slightly shaking grasp, reading over the emails with a furrowed brow as if to make certain that it is his mother that Chris was exchanging emails with. It’s quiet. Chris and Elsa wait for Tom to make a move. They can’t tell if he’s upset of happy about this. Tom always reacts in a different manner from which they expect.

“You-you actually found my mum,” he says, sounding more like he’s asking than stating the obvious. “Why would you do this?” He looks up and his eyes are wet.

It’s not the reaction they were expecting.

“We thought you might want to be able to talk to your family again,” Elsa says, thankfully taking the reins since Chris has absolutely no idea how to respond. “How long has it been since you talked to them?”

“Years,” Tom admits. “A very long time. But I still don’t understand why you would go through all this trouble. To-to actually look around and find my mum just so you could tell her how I’m doing. I just . . . I just don’t understand why.”

“Do you not want to talk to her?” Chris asks, feeling a little deflated because he thought Tom would react differently about this. “I can talk to her again and say you’re not ready yet or—”

“No, no,” Tom says. “It’s fine. Really. I’m just having a hard time realizing that you went through all this trouble for me. Why did you do this?”

“I thought it’d be nice for you,” Chris says. “I don’t know what I would do if I suddenly couldn’t contact my family. Or have the option to. I just wanted to give something back to you.”

Tom looks down at the papers again. “May I have some time to think about this?”

Chris and Elsa both nod.

“Sure,” Chris says. “Take all the time you need. We understand.”

“And . . . could I perhaps take these emails upstairs with me?”

He sounds so wistful and hopeful. Like this is all a dream come true or that he can’t believe this is actually happening. Of course Chris and Elsa let Tom take the papers upstairs with him. Why wouldn’t they? He’ll probably read the letters several times tonight, just to make itself known to him that his mother knows he’s safe and so dearly wants to speak with him.

* * *

They let Tom have some space the next day. It’s obvious he’s distracted. The way his face scrunches up and his brows furrow in deep concentration are clue enough that he’s thinking about what they just told him the day before.

Chis doesn’t get it. Well, he does, but not really. He thought Tom would jump at the chance to be able to speak to his family again. That’s what Chris himself would do. Would he? The more he thinks about it, the more he sort of understands Tom’s hesitation. For one thing, it has been years since Tom has last spoken to his family. How many? Chris isn’t exactly sure about that. But for it to have been years, it’s obvious that Tom is not the same person his family probably remembers him to be. Chris only knows Slave IC-782, but recently he thinks he’s seeing the real Tom, the not slave Tom. This Tom has the wide and easily available smile. His whole body language is relaxed and open. It’s very nice to see the transformation. But to be on the other end of this story. That’s something else entirely.

It was a shock for Chris to hear that Liam was going to be a slave. His parents were understandably distraught. His mother was absolutely heartbroken. She’d been so upset that Luke and Chris had to drop what they were doing to see her and comfort her. She loved her boys equally, but there’s always that something about the baby of the family that makes the situation that much worse.

It must be something similar for Tom’s family. That must be why Tom is taking his time about this. He’s considering how his family will react to seeing him again. And probably what he’s going to tell them and not tell them as well. (Chris knows there’s still a lot he doesn’t know about Tom’s past.)

At the end of the day, Tom is waiting for Chris to step out of the bathroom. Chris sidesteps to let him in, but Tom doesn’t go in right away.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks.

“Sure. Do you want to go downstairs or—”

Tom shakes his head. “I just wanted to say that I do really want to talk to mum.”

“Good. I’ll email her tomorrow and we’ll set up a date then. Do you care if it’s by phone or video chat?”

“The video chat might be nice.”

“All right then. Goodnight.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Chris turns to head into the bedroom before Tom stops him again.

“And, Chris.”

He turns.

Tom is rubbing the back of his neck, looking down at the floor. “I just wanted to thank you for doing this for . . . well, for me. If there’s anything I can do to repay me, you can just let me know and I’ll do it.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ is good enough for me,” Chris says.

Tom smiles shyly. “Thank you, Chris. Thank you very much.”

* * *

Chris sends Diana and email the next day that Tom is very willing to have a video chat with her in the near future. Diana is ecstatic. She immediately sends a list of dates and times that work for her and figures out the time change in relation to where Chris lives so that they can work something out. They choose a Saturday so that around noon Chris will get his Skype set up and Diana will be available in the afternoon where she lives. Everything is set up in the home office, and Chris waits for Diana to log onto Skype.

Tom is jumpy. He’s waiting just outside of the office, not daring to step inside until he knows everything is set up. For once Tom is distracted. Elsa is watching over India in the living room, but Tom isn’t by her side or busying himself with the usual chores around the house. Chris doesn’t blame him. This is something he’s probably been dreaming of for years.

The computer screen starts ringing, and Chris turns his attention to Skype and waits for Diana’s video to pop up. It’s a little sluggish, but it works.

“Hello,” Diana says, smiling lightly and waving at Chris.

“Hi,” Chris says. “Yeah, I’m Chris.”

“Hello, Chris. I’m Diana.”

“Yeah. Right. Well, it’s very nice to meet you. And talk to you in person like this.”

“Yes, I’m glad that we could work something out.” Her eyes flicker over the screen. She’s looking for someone. “Is Tom there?”

“Yeah,” Chris says. “I’ll got get him for you and let you two have some privacy.”

“Thank you very much, Chris. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“It’s no problem, really. I’m just glad that this could work out. I’ll go fetch Tom now.”

Chris stands and leaves momentarily to pull Tom into the room and get him onto the chair before the computer. Tom looks up at him quickly, and that’s the only thing he really needs to do. Chris understands how grateful Tom really is.

He closes the door to the office and joins Elsa and India on the carpet in the living room. They look at each other and smile. Nothing really needs to be said. They’re just happy that they could help out Tom like this.

* * *

Two and half hours later Tom comes out of the office. His eyes are a bit puffy and red, but Chris was sort of expecting that. Tom doesn’t say anything and goes into the kitchen to clean up their breakfast dishes. Chris goes into the office to see if Diana logged off or if there’s anything they need to say to each other.

Diana’s already gone, but she left an email in Chris’s inbox that thanks him very much for what he’s doing and how he’s taking care of her son and that maybe they should do this again sometime. Chris sends off a short reply and says that they should.

Tom is quiet for a few hours after that, but then something happens. He just lights up, becomes an entirely different person. He and Elsa cook dinner that night and their throwing playful banter at each other like they’ve been friends for years.  

And when Tom smiles, it’s this genuine smile that looks absolutely natural. It’s full of teeth, lighting up the room, and making them all smile in turn. Tom has an effect on people that Chris has never noticed before. When he’s happy, other people forget their own problems and remember what to be happy about as well.

* * *

They gather in the living room together, putting on a movie for once since their all home for the night and Elsa doesn’t have to go off to work tomorrow. They decide to make it a late night. They watch _Star Wars: A New Hope_ because Tom has voiced his opinion on the matter, and Chris and Elsa can’t really find it in themselves to say ‘no.’

Chris holds Elsa close to his chest, laying half on and half off the couch. He finds he keeps looking at Tom every now and then and he doesn’t know exactly why. Before it would be just to check on his mood and if there was something he could do if Tom was too tense or too quiet. But this time, he’s looking at Tom and seeing him in a different light. He comes to the conclusion that Tom is very beautiful when he smiles.


	24. Chapter Twenty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may not be perfect, but Master Sebastian is a much better man than Master Cole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know where to begin with this. This story is growing beyond my original intent. How did it come to this? Not that I'm complaining. I never really know where my story's will take me, but wow. All right. This is something new. I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Also, it's my birthday! YEAH! I thought I'd give you guys a little something special to celebrate this momentous occasion that is dedicated to my birth.

Master Sebastian took his time in training Tom. Tom, as he suspected, was being trained in the arts of a modern sex slave. He wasn’t that reluctant to be taught in something different. Master Sebastian made it a safe environment for Tom to be able to relax during the training. If he ever felt unsafe or uneasy, he should tell Master Sebastian _right away._ Master Sebastian did not want to force Tom into anything he was uncomfortable with. If Tom didn’t like what they were doing, then he should use the safe word that was in place. That was the reason for it.

They started out slow like Master Sebastian said. He unlocked the secrets to Tom’s body. He started out by finger fucking him, opening him up slowly so that only a pleasant soreness would remain.

Tom had never touched himself like this before. He’d thought of experimenting while in university, but he’d been a bit too shy back then before he was taken. Master Sebastian took note of his inexperience and skittishness before opening him up and showing him how good it could be.

Tom was on his back again late one night. There was a pillow propped under his hips. He was told to hold his legs closer to his chest. Master Sebastian was between his spread and bent legs, coating his fingers in lube.

“Just relax for me, all right?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I promise. Tonight is going to be great.”

Master Sebastian started off with one finger, gently working past the ring of muscle. It was an odd sensation, and Tom jumped a little at the cold feeling of the lube. Master placed a steady hand on his hip to keep him still.

“You all right?

“Yes, Master.”

“You sure?”

Tom nodded.

Master Sebastian continued his work on stretching Tom open. When he was relaxed enough, Master worked a second finger inside of him, slowly pumping them in and out. He bent over Tom to give him a kiss on the lips, something he’d started doing only a week ago. Of course Tom had blushed at the sudden action, but Master Sebastian had found that endearing and pulled him close for another.

He stretched Tom open, taking his time to make sure there was no pain. By the time he was able to slip a third finger in, Tom was quivering with need. Master’s fingers brushed over his prostrate, and he thought he was going to burst.

“You like that?”

Tom could only reply in low moans and hitches in his breath.

“You like it when I play with you? Fuck you open and get you all hard and wanting?” His other hand wrapped around Tom’s leaking cock. “You look so beautiful like this, so needy and desperate.” He rubbed his thumb over the head of Tom’s cock, smearing the bead of precome gathering there. “I can just imagine what the first night is going to be like. The sounds you’re going to make then.” Tom’s thighs were quivering from the stimulation. Master Sebastian was relentlessly pressing at his prostrate and stroking his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer like this.          

By the end of the night, Master Sebastian had worked him open to fit four fingers inside of him. His stomach was covered in a sticky mess, and by the time Master had let him come, Tom was a boneless mess afterwards, his orgasm intense and draining. Master Sebastian cleaned him off with a warm, wet cloth and lay down beside him after he was done cleaning up. Tom didn’t mind the company in bed. He curled up against his Master, letting himself bed held and stroked.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” Master kissed him deeply. Tom opened his mouth, moaning as Master’s tongue passed between his teeth. “You’re just what I’ve always wanted.” Master Sebastian stroked his cheek bone and pulled the blankets over the both of them.

* * *

They visited the club maybe once or twice a month, always on a Friday night. The same men with, once in a while, different slaves were the people they saw there every time they went. The club was where they discussed business and other interests they had. They often talked about their slaves and what they were doing with them, how they were training them, and how it was going. If they were sitting on the chairs, Tom would usually sit on the armrest while Master Sebastian talked with his friends. If they were on tall bar stools or leaning against the bar, Master held him close, hooking an arm around his waist or standing behind him just a bit to wrap both arms around him and rest his chin on his shoulder.

It was no secret that Master Sebastian was very fond of his new slave. He showered IC-782 with more affection than he did with his other slaves in the past. The slave had new clothes, a new haircut, and if Master Sebastian was extra proud of his boy that night, then maybe he’d receive a sip from his drink.

The one man that always noticed Master Sebastian’s generous moods around Tom went by the name of Tony Gusev, a large man with a heavy accent. Tom always caught him staring. He looked at Tom like Master Sebastian did, like he was a sweet, little boy. It made Tom worry and stay close to his Master’s side. Master Sebastian would notice the subtle movement, but didn’t seem to think much of it and would place a hand on Tom’s thigh or around his waist. Tom was grateful for his protection.

* * *

During the weekends, Master Sebastian would come to the apartment. That was when the session would take place. On Friday night they had dinner together. Sometimes Master would bring something home, but other times Tom made dinner for two. He liked it that way. Tom liked being able to do something for once instead of being cooped up in the apartment for a week, waiting for his Master to come home.

It was nice to be able to think about something to prepare for the next night. Tom liked to go into detail so that it was something special. He had a lot to be grateful for, after all. Making a nice meal was the least thing he could do.

Master Sebastian always bought the things that Tom needed to make decent meals. He didn’t want his boy living off microwaveable dinners forever. So by the time Friday rolled around, Tom had something to work with for when his Master arrived.

Master Sebastian was always smiling when he stepped into the apartment, seeing a nice meal spread out on the kitchen table. He came up and pulled Tom close to him, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Smells wonderful.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Once Master Sebastian had washed up, they sat down together and had a nice meal. It was mostly quiet. Sometimes Master Sebastian would say something and perhaps Tom would say something in reply. But other than that, they were quiet, silence settling in between them comfortably.

They washed dishes together, which was nice, domesticated. They retired to the living room afterwards. Master Sebastian pulled Tom close to him on the couch. They leaned against each other, watching TV. Master Sebastian was an affectionate man. When he was nearby, he always had an arm around Tom, keeping him close to his side. His hands were always dipping under Tom’s shirt to reach his skin, stroking softly and almost tickling him. Usually these types of actions progressed into something more.

These cuddles on the couch would always end up in a make-out session. Tom ended up against one end of the couch with Master Sebastian caging him in. It was open-mouthed and messy, sloppy even. Tom wasn’t refined in kissing since he never kissed anyone. But Master Sebastian didn’t seem upset. He simply smiled and continued to nibble upon his lips, sucking the flavour from them and making them swell. He ground his pelvis down, and Tom felt his erection and shivered. Would tonight be that night? Would Master Sebastian finally take his virginity?

He stroked Tom through his pants, squeezing and stroking, enjoying how the slave stiffened and grew hard. Eventually Master Sebastian had enough of the couch and pulled Tom into the bedroom. He ordered Tom to strip. Tom did as he was told as Master Sebastian unbuttoned and untucked his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his pants. He laid back against the headboard of the bed, gazing at Tom at the other end of the bed, standing naked and flushed.

“Come here, Tom,” he said.

Tom knelt on the bed, crawling forward to close the distance between them. Master Sebastian caught his lips in a kiss.

“I want to see how you use those pretty, little lips of yours,” Master said, cupping Tom’s chin and swiping his thumb over the swollen and reddened bottom lip.

Tom moved back a bit, settling between Master Sebastian’s spread legs. He pulled down his boxers, freeing his erection from the cotton confines. Bracing his hands on his Master’s thighs, Tom started by licking the head. He drew it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Try not to use your teeth, boy,” Master Sebastian said, looking down at him. “Curl your lips over them a bit. Ah. There you go. Good boy.”

Tom learned how to properly serve his Master with his mouth. With Master Cole, it was a quick and messy thing. He’d gotten off more on the fact of how helpless Tom was than the actual pleasure of the action. But Master Sebastian taught him how to do a blowjob properly. How to suck, how to lick, how to stroke, how to deep throat. But the last was more difficult to master. He always choked before he could swallow Master Sebastian down completely. As soon as his cock some much as touched the back of his throat, the tears would well up and his gag reflex would kick in.

“It’s all right, Tom,” Master Sebastian said. “You have all the time in the world to learn.”

He would thrust up into Tom’s mouth a few times, but was nowhere near as harsh as Master Cole. Eventually he came, shooting his load down into Tom’s throat, filling his mouth. Tom knew what was expected of him already. He knew what Master Sebastian would like him to do. He swallowed everything down like the good boy and slave he was. He licked the rest of it up, cleaning his Master’s cock before taking a chance to look up.

“Such a good boy,” Master Sebastian murmured. “Come up here.”

Tom sat up and inched forward.

“I think my boy deserves reward. Don’t you think so?” He wrapped a hand around Tom’s half hard cock.

Tom gasped. “Please, Master.”

Master Sebastian smiled. “I love it when you say that.”

Tom fucked into his fist, orgasm coming to completion quickly. He left a mess on his Master’s stomach. He looked up at him. Would he be expected to lick that up as well? But no. Master Sebastian simply gathered him close and kissed him sweetly. Maybe Master Sebastian would be a kind Master after all.

* * *

The night in question happened on the third month Tom had become Master Sebastian’s slave.

Tom had been waiting for a while now. Master Sebastian sure was taking his time to make sure the night in question was special. That everything would be _just right_. The weekends leading up to it were spent in the bedroom, learning the secrets of Tom’s body and what he liked and didn’t like. So far they had learned that Tom liked having his nipples played with, his thighs and sides stroked, but didn’t like having Master Sebastian biting down on his shoulders or neck. He always crinkled inward like an accordion. So no hickeys on the neck or shoulders, but everywhere else was fine.

They started out slowly. Master Sebastian obviously wanted to take his time, and Tom was actually quite nervous about this night. He didn’t know if Master Sebastian would be a fast-and-hard lover or a sweet-and-slow lover. But no matter what it was going to happen and Tom would simply have to take what he could get.

There was a lot of kissing and general touching in the beginning. There was some music playing in the background, something soft and barely audible, but Master Sebastian said he couldn’t stand the silence. He was a little odd like that.

Tom was on his back, writhing on the sheets and panting. Master Sebastian was currently sucking him off, and, boy, did he have some experience. He bobbed his head, sucking and hollowing his cheeks. When he took Tom’s cock into his throat and swallowed, Tom would’ve come right then if it weren’t for the command that he wasn’t allowed to come until Master Sebastian said so. His thighs were quivering from the strain of holding back his orgasm by the time Master Sebastian pulled off. His cock was slick with precome and saliva and was a deep red in colour.

Master Sebastian sucked a bruised onto Tom’s thigh, kissing the pale flesh before stretching up to kiss Tom on the lips. “I’m going to give you just what you want,” he said, nipping Tom on the ear playfully.

He carefully stretched Tom, using a generous amount of lube before rolling a condom on his erection. He settled himself in between Tom’s spread legs and lifted his legs with his hands underneath his thighs. Tom wrapped his legs around his Master’s waist and focused his gaze on the ceiling. He felt the tip of his Master’s cock touch his entrance. He held his breath as Master Sebastian entered him for the first time.

He entered slowly, making sure Tom didn’t feel any pain. The stretch was still accompanied by a burn despite the preparation. Tom felt full, stuffed even. It was almost too much for him, and he knew his erection was flagging. He felt overwhelmed.

“Remember to breathe for me, boy,” Master Sebastian said softly, bending down to give him a kiss on his lips.

Tom sucked in a great gulp off air as Master Sebastian sheathed himself completely. His groin flush to Tom’s arse. He waited a moment, both getting used to the new feeling. Then he pulled out until just the tip was inside before pushing back in with the same caution as before.

He gave Tom some time to get used to the new action before thrusting a little harder and a little faster. It wasn’t a cruel or punishing pace, but Tom was still a little bit uncomfortable. He tried to lose himself in the sensation, to remember to breathe and to relax, but he couldn’t stop thinking that _this wasn’t right_. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. No matter how good Master Sebastian made it feel or how safe Tom was, he knew that something special like this wasn’t supposed to happen under these circumstances.

If Tom had his way, he would’ve liked his first time with a man to be with someone he loved and trusted, not a man who was his owner.

A sudden thrust caught him by surprise, and he inhaled sharply. He remained pliant, remained still as Master Sebastian took his pleasure from him, thrusting in and out as he set a harsher pace. At one point Tom thought that he might be torn apart, but Master Sebastian was not that harsh. Perhaps this was what was considered to be normal.

Master Sebastian wrapped a hand around Tom’s neglected cock. He stroked him to full hardness once more. He hit his prostrate, and Tom moaned.

Okay. So maybe it wasn’t _that bad_.

He brought Tom to climax first and then fucked him through his orgasm.

“ _So tight,_ ” Master groaned and thrust one last time before coming.

He fell forward, pressing his forehead against Tom’s, their skin slick with sweat. After a few moments where both just breathed, Master Sebastian pulled out his softening cock and rolled off of Tom and lay next to him. He took off his condom, tied the end, and placed it on tissue before disposing of it properly. He came back with a wet cloth and cleaned the both of them off, wiping away the spunk on Tom’s stomach before lying down next to him.

Tom was gathered up in his Master’s arms. They kissed, close lipped and quickly. They kissed like this several times. Master Sebastian’s hands swept down his back and pulled him closer. He gripped Tom’s cheeks and squeezed. Tom moaned a little.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Master Sebastian said, nuzzling Tom’s cheek. “My beautiful boy.”

One thing Tom liked about his new Master was the never ending praise and adoration. It reminded him of Mistress Hori in a way, and that meant Tom was safe here.

And that’s really all he wanted to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So that just happened. I don't really know what to say other than that, but um. You know. Let me know what you think and we'll go from there.


	25. Chapter Twenty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Elsa take Tom shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and comfort. That's all I've got for you today. And a revelation.

A few months after India turns one, Elsa has an announcement that she announces one night when she and Chris settle down in bed.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chris turns in bed, opening his mouth to say something but not knowing exactly what to say. So it comes out in this unintelligent garbled mess of “Huh?”

“We’re going to have another baby,” she says.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Chris says, taking it all in that Elsa is pregnant that that their family is growing. A whirlwind of thoughts suddenly strikes Chris. They’ll have to make room for the baby, buy new clothing and new toys. There’s just so much to go on about that Chris feels overwhelmed at the sudden news.

He pulls Elsa on top of him and hugs her tight.

They’re going to have a baby.

* * *

Summer is approaching, and Elsa is noticing the state of Tom’s clothes. He’s been with them for six months now, and it’s very clear that he doesn’t have many clothes. So they plan on going on a shopping trip one Saturday at a nearby mall so they can all get what they need: supplies for the new baby in question (if prices are agreeable) and clothes for Tom. But Tom is twitchy and nervous. He doesn’t like going outside, hasn’t gone outside since he came back from the center except for maybe a haircut. It’s just another one of those hurdles they need to get over together.

“We need to get you some new clothes,” Elsa says one night. Chris is trying to get India to eat her dinner while Tom and Elsa start the cleanup in the kitchen.

“That’s—that’s not really necessary,” Tom says. “You don’t need to do this.”

“But I want to and I insist,” Elsa says. “And I’ve noticed that most of your shirts have holes in them. Time to get some new stuff I think, all right?”

Tom sighs. “I guess so.”

“Good.”

* * *

Chris has a thought later that night. With a baby on the way, this house will become pretty crowded. It’s a two floor, three bedroom house, but those three rooms are already taken up. Tom is a part of this family just as much as any of them. He’ll be staying with them for . . . Chris doesn’t know how long, but for a while anyway. He’s not going to lose his room just because there’s a baby on the way. He’s still a human, still equal.

So the only logical solution to this problem is to buy a new house. This house now is a good first house. It’s the perfect size for a new family, but Chris and Elsa had plans to have a few kids. Start a family. They weren’t going to stay here indefinitely because Elsa had dreams of a larger house. Not too big, but bigger than this. With a basement and a nice backyard to invite friends over. This house has enough for them now, but they want more. So buying a new house and selling this one has to be part of the plan if they wish to provide for everyone underneath this roof.

“We’re going to have to buy a new house,” he says quietly, in case Elsa is asleep then he’ll just leave the matter until morning.

“Hmm?” comes her sleepy reply. She shifts and pulls the blankets towards her a little. “Did you say something?”

“It’s fine,” he says. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“’Kay.”

Chris’s head is swimming with the new possibilities, but deep down he’s actually quite excited about this.

* * *

With a baby on the way and a new house on the mind, it’s time to focus on Tom. They pack up the car and head out into the city. Tom is entertaining India and keeping her quiet. He, too, is also quiet. It’ll be difficult for Tom to adjust to life when he is freed. If he is to have a normal life, then he has to brave the outdoors at some point. Rather now than later with people he trusts than on his own.

They park the car and get India out of her car seat and into Tom’s arms before walking into the mall. Elsa has a list of things they need to look for and get. They decide to look for Tom’s clothing first. So they walk into one of the larger department stores and walk straight to the men’s section. They get a cart and set India inside of it. Tom pushes the cart and walks behind them because they know he needs to focus on something.

They browse through the various types of clothing, trying to gauge Tom’s reaction to see if he’s interested in anything. It’s kind of hard to tell.

“See anything you like, Tom?” Elsa asks.

Tom looks at the racks and piles of folded clothing. “I don’t—I-I’m not exactly . . . sure. I-I don’t know.”

“Well, what colours do you like?” she asks and looks over her shoulder. Tom is a little pale, wide eyed and gripping the cart tightly. He’s anxious and stressed. All of the sudden he has options, and that must be pretty terrifying for a guy who’s had most of his life decided for him. They’re going to have to work on this a little differently.

Chris points at a rack full of button down shirts. “Let’s check those out.”

So they do. Instead of asking Tom what he wants and likes, they simply start picking things at random just to see what styles he looks good in and what colours he likes. Tom is calmer now that the decisions are taken out of his hands and he’s allowed to be this passive presence. When they’ve maxed out the number of clothing articles for the change room, they take them all to the appropriate place and send Tom on his way in a change room. That’s when India gets fussy and Elsa has to go change her.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” she says, making sure she has everything with her. “Just look after Tom and browse for a few things. Pants, maybe?”

“I got this,” Chris says. “I can handle it.”

She leaves him and Tom to it and takes off with India safely held in her arms.

They started out with a few shirts to make it simple. Chris checks his messages on his phone while Tom is fiddling behind one of the doors. When the door handle clicks and turns, Chris looks up as Tom comes out. He’s holding onto the bottom of the shirt as he steps out. It’s a dark blue, buttoned shirt that can be tucked in or left loose. It fits Tom nicely. It doesn’t hang off of him obscenely or look too tight. Tom looks at himself in the mirror.

“So,” he says. “What do you think? Is it good?”

Chris approaches him. “It looks great. Do you like it?”

“I—I.” Tom looks at himself in the mirror and runs his hand down the front of his shirt. “I like it. I-I like the colour.”

“All right. We’ll get it then. Anything else?”

Tom looks back into his change room. He has a few other shirts waiting in there for him. “I would like to try on the others. If that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Take your time. We’re not in any hurry.”

Tom goes back into the change room and takes his time changing into the different shirts he has with him. He doesn’t come out again to show Chris his shirts, but he takes the initiative to figure out what he lies and doesn’t like. He comes out with two sets of shirts: one he wants and the other he doesn’t. When the shirts are tossed into the cart, they go off to look for pants.

It’s the same process as before. Chris tries his best in finding pants that are long enough for Tom. It takes a while, but it’s nice seeing Tom in new clothes that are basically his own. They also take the time to get some new socks, underwear, and a black sweater with a wide collar that Tom is particularly taken with. Chris pays for it all. They bag it and meet up with Elsa outside of the store. They head back to the car quickly to set the bags of clothing inside before heading back in to browse a little more and get some groceries at the end.

They browse more than they buy. They do have to think about the new baby on the way, but they’ve got a lot of stuff from India still. All they need is the basics. Maybe some new furniture. They’ll wait to see what happens before they decide to invest in new items.

They pass by a bookstore, and Tom slows down a bit before catching up with Elsa and Chris. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Would you like to browse for a bit, Tom?” Chris asks. “We were just going to buy groceries anyway.”

“Oh, no,” he says. “I-I couldn’t. I’m fine. Really.”

“No, I think that’s a great idea,” Elsa says. “Tom, if you want to browse for a bit, we won’t take long.”

“Is there anything you want to get?” Chris asks, all too ready to pull out his wallet and hand Tom some cash.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ve got enough at home. But I wouldn’t mind looking? If that’s all right?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’ll be done in about twenty minutes, if you want to wait here for us.”

Tom nods. “That’s-that’s fine.” He holds his arms close to his chest before walking into the store. They stay for a moment just to make sure Tom will be all right on his own for a while. When he lowers his arms and picks up a book to read the back cover, they know he’s going to fine and decide to leave and finish their shopping trip, taking the cart and India with them.

Chris is a little worried when they enter the grocery store. They’ve left Tom alone in the mall book store. Sure, it’s not far, but they’ve never left Tom alone since the running incident. Chris is feeling his lack of presence acutely, especially since he _knows_ that Tom is not at home where it’s safe. But Elsa doesn’t seem to be worried at all. She’s calm through it all as they fill the cart with what they need and take it to the checkout. They return to the bookstore, and Tom is still looking around, touching his lips with his fingertips as he looks among the stacked books. He sees them and smiles, letting his hands drop to his sides before going to meet them.

“All done?” Chris asks.

Tom nods. “Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

They load up the car with the groceries and get India back into her car seat before heading home.

* * *

After dinner Tom comes up to Chris in the kitchen. He’s looking down and fiddling with his hands.

“I was wondering if you would like to go for a run with me after . . . after you’re done here,” he says. “It-it doesn’t have to be a run. We can just go for a walk or whatever you’d like to do.”

Chris sets the towel he’s holding down onto the counter. Tom can’t stand still next to him. He always fidgets when he’s near Chris.

Before the accident, Chris did run quite a few times during the week. But now he’s mindful of his leg and physical exertion all together. But if Tom is asking him and showing general interest that he wants to go outside, then Chris will do whatever it takes to make Tom feel accepted and comfortable.

“Sure,” Chris says. “Just let me finish up here and get changed and we’ll go out.”

Tom smiles.

Chris finishes up his work in the kitchen and goes upstairs to get changed into something a little more appropriate. He comes down the stairs, and Tom is waiting for him by the door with his running shoes tied up tightly. Chris steps into his shoes and makes sure Elsa knows where they’re going as they walk out of the house and onto the sidewalk.

“So,” Tom says. “Where do you want to go?”

“Well, usually I would just run to the end of the street and back. It’s long enough to be a good run,” Chris says. “You up to it?”

Tom nods. “After you then.”

They start off at a slow pace because neither has been running in a very long time and need to get back into it again. They don’t talk to each other, but it’s nice to have another person running side by side with him.

They reach the end of the street and take a moment for a breather before turning back and completing their run. The muscles in Chris legs are burning and trembling from the exertion and his chest heaves to fill his lungs with more air, but it was good. It felt good to go out and get some exercise for once and just run for a while.

He looks to Tom beside him. He has his hands on his hips; face and neck flushed and skin glistening with sweat. He licks his lips.

“Well,” Chris says when he manages to get enough air to speak. “That was good.”

Tom laughs a little breathlessly. “Yeah,” he responds. “It was. Um . . . thank you for coming out with me.”

“Thanks for asking me. I had a really good time.” Chris reaches out and sets his hand on Tom’s shoulder, squeezing gently but firmly. Tom does not shy away and leans a little into the touch as Chris lets his hand linger.

They walk back into the house and grab some refreshments before Tom goes upstairs to take a quick shower. He comes down smelling fresh and clean. His hair is darker and frizzier from the shower. He keeps running his hands through it, free trapped drops of water that weren’t freed from a towel.

Chris heads upstairs right away to take a shower as soon as Tom sits down with his book.

* * *

He’s in bed with Elsa late that night. He’s holding her closer, one arm wrapped around her as his fingers stroke back and forth on her skin.

Elsa shifts in his arms, laying an arm across his chest. “Tom’s been doing well recently,” she says absentmindedly. “He’s much more relaxed now than he used to be.”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. He’s more open to talking now and asking for things for himself. It’s nice to see him settling in now.”

“Hmm. I’ve been noticing something about him.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“He likes you.”

Chris’s fingers stop. The room suddenly feels hot and pressurized. “What?”

“Tom likes you.”

He finds he has no words, and that something familiar but cannot be named is blooming in his chest.


	26. Chapter Twenty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship between Tom and Master Sebastian is explored, and Tom makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this might be my longest chapter yet. Enjoy the porn and the sudden surprise of a new character! Also, I'm going to be working on the tags. Adding things and such.

Having sex with Master Sebastian wasn’t that scary to Tom anymore. Master Sebastian made sure Tom was comfortable and fully prepared before they even started getting to the heavier stuff. They tried all sorts of different things and different positions. Tom on his back, on his hands and knees, riding his Master’s cock and for once setting the pace. They didn’t get into the more daring stuff until Tom was comfortable and ready with the stuff they were already doing.

Sometimes Master Sebastian bought things for Tom to dress up in. It was all lingerie, but they never took it outside of the bedroom. Tom was a little unsure when Master came home with a bag filled with a whole arrangement of silky and lacy articles. Tom’s face was bright red for about an hour, and Master Sebastian kissed him on the side of the head with a smirk on his lips.

“You don’t have to put them on tonight,” Master said, although it was left unsaid that ‘but I would really appreciate it if you did.’ “I just picked a few out that I thought would look good on you.”

Tom was held close against his Master. He looked into the bag. There were several pairs of panties inside, all different colours and cuts with varying patterns of lace and bows and silk. Master Sebastian’s hands went around his waist. Tom wondered what he would look like one of these, what the different colours would look like in contrast to his skin, how the material would feel against him, how it would cup his prick.

“Would you like me to try one on, Master?” he asked, voice low and husky. He looked up at Master Sebastian.

“Only if you want to, babe,” he said with a kiss to Tom’s cheek.

Tom took the bag into the bathroom. He closed and locked the door, setting the bag on the counter. He kept his eyes off the mirror and stripped down, piling his clothes on top of the toilet. He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the panties. It was a vibrant red and made mostly of lace. It was see through and looked like it wouldn’t cover anything, but if Master Sebastian thought Tom would look good in these, then he might as well give them a try.

He slid the panties up his legs, shivering as he pulled them up to his hips and put them in place. They felt . . . strange. He looked in the mirror. The panties outlined his cock and balls. They looked even stranger on him. He didn’t know what to think of himself, dressed like this. Would Master Sebastian like him like this?

Feeling extremely self-conscious, Tom pulled his shirt on. It was big enough to come down over his hips and hide himself from view. He took in a deep breath and opened the door. He took two steps out of the bathroom, hands coming up to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it down a little.

Master Sebastian was sitting on the couch, but then he looked up at Tom and smiled. “Come here,” he said. “Let me see you.”

Tom walked over to the living room area and stood before his Master. He let his hands drop. Master Sebastian took them up instead and gently guided Tom to straddle his lap. He lifted Tom’s shirt, prompting him to lift his arms for the shirt to be pulled over his head. It was dropped on the floor.

Something settled in the pit of Tom’s stomach. He was aware that he was shaking a little. Master Sebastian’s hands skimmed over his thighs and hips. He shivered.

“Look at me, Tom.” With the aid of a hand gently cupping his chin, Tom met his Master’s gaze. “You don’t ever need to hide yourself from me. You’re always beautiful.” They kissed slowly, moaning and gasping, fingers searching and clasping at skin and clothing. They moved to the bedroom eventually, and from there it was nothing but sweet and slow sex.

The sex with Master Sebastian was always great. Tom actually could enjoy himself and lose himself in the moment. He always made Tom feel good, enjoying how Tom fell apart at his hands as he brushed over his prostate and jerked off his cock in time with the thrusts. Master Sebastian always cleaned them up afterwards, taking the time to wipe the spunk off of Tom’s stomach. They cuddled afterwards. Tom enjoyed that. He liked being able to snuggle up in Master Sebastian’s arms, warm and sated.

* * *

They visited the club more frequently once Tom came to accept—and get used to—the fact that he was little more than a bed warmer for Master Sebastian. He became used to the public displays of affection when they visited the club and the possessiveness that Master Sebastian seemed to show when the others took interest in him.

In the months to come, Master Sebastian became bolder in the club. Tom never really noticed what happened in the club until Master Sebastian started paying more attention to him. The touches lingered more often and became much more daring.

Once he was pinned against the wall with Master Sebastian mouthing at his neck. Hot. Heavy. _Claiming._ Tom moaned, let his eyes close as Master’s hands roamed all over his body. Master Sebastian pressed against him, hands sneaking around to his arse, squeezing his buttocks. Tom opened his eyes. Master Sebastian pressed closer, kissing him roughly, parting his lips to explore the inside of his mouth.

Tom was aware of all the eyes on him. This was a club where Masters and Mistresses could exploit their sexual desires upon their slaves. Now that Master Sebastian and Tom had developed a more sexual relationship, Master Sebastian had decided that it was time to take their relationship public and show off what Tom really was to his friends.

His heart beat harshly against his chest as Master Sebastian brought one hand to the front of Tom’s jeans. He was kissed sweetly as the button on his jeans was thumbed open. He closed his eyes as Master Sebastian trailed a line of kisses from his jaw to his ear. Teeth grazed his earlobe and he gasped, arching into his Master’s grasp as the zipper was pulled down and his hand delved inside.

Nimble fingers grasped his cock and stroked it slowly. Tom whimpered and held onto Master Sebastian, fucking into his grasp. Tom pressed his face into Master Sebastian’s shoulder and let his Master use him, letting his show his friends how responsive his slave was, turning him into a quivering mess until he came with a soft groan.

His knees felt weak. He collapsed against Master Sebastian as he took his hand out, covered in Tom’s spunk. “Good boy,” he whispered before leading Tom into the bathroom to clean up. Afterwards they stepped out into the club to find some seats. Master Sebastian’s arm was thrown possessively around his waist. They were intercepted several times on their quest to find somewhere to sit by other owners, praising Master Sebastian’s scene and new slave. Tom blushed at the attention.

Eventually they got to some seats where Master Sebastian ordered a drink and a bottle of water—the water being for Tom. Master Sebastian was beaming. He held Tom close to his side, whispering little things into Tom’s ear, telling him how proud he was of him. Tom felt something wash over him. It made him feel warm.

They were served their drinks, and a moment later two other people joined them. The woman had dark hair pinned back in an elaborate bun. Her makeup was smoky and dark, and her dress exposed the length of her neck, left her arms bare, and hugged her curves. Beside her was a man, possibly Tom’s age. He had dark hair and eyes and also his skin was a tad darker than Tom’s own. His white t-shirt was a V-neck and tight, showing off his build. It was tucked up a little from the way he was sitting to show off his low-cut jeans and a bit of midriff. He also had a cuff and tattoo and one of those orange bracelets. He was a slave.

“Kate!” Master Sebastian said, sitting forward and forcing Tom to sit up straight. “It’s good to see you again!”

“Good to see you, too!” They reached over and shook hands.

“It’s been a while,” Master said. “I haven’t seen you recently.”

“Family business popped up,” Kate said. “And Zach wasn’t feeling well for a while.” She ran a hand down the man’s—Zach’s—back, which earned a shudder. “Decided to take some time off. Came back tonight just to see how the place was. Glad I did. That was quite a show you put on. I haven’t seen this one before.”

“No, you haven’t. This is Tom. Tom, this is Kate and her slave Zach.”

Tom said ‘hello’ quietly. Zach looked at him briefly, eyes drifting over his body before returning to the floor.

“Tell me about him,” Kate said. “I know you’ve been looking for someone for quite some time.”

“Well, he belonged to a friend of mine for a while. He broke him in right and was planning on selling him. So I bought him. He has these gorgeous eyes that I just fell in love with. They’re just so expressive, showing off everything he’s feeling.”

“I know what you mean. You should see Zachary when he’s laid out on his back. He makes the most beautiful sounds.”

“I’d like to see that.” Master Sebastian crossed his legs and put his arm around Tom’s shoulders.

“Maybe we could set something up,” Kate suggested, smiling brightly. “I know you’ve always been interested.”

Master Sebastian took a sip from his drink. He turned to look at Tom, seeing something that Tom didn’t. Then he looked at Zach. “I’m down,” he said at last. “What do you have in mind?”

“We can use one of the rooms they have on the upper floor,” Kate explained. “We split the costs and see what our boys can do to each other.”

Master Sebastian nodded. “But before we do this, I want to see what I’m getting into first.”

“Of course.” Kate turned to Zach. “Go introduce yourself to Tom, love.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Master Sebastian moved to sit down beside Kate, and Tom was left wondering what was happening. Zach glided over to him and positioned his long legs on either side of Tom’s lap, caging him in thoroughly and grinding his pelvis down against Tom’s. Tom stiffened, not quite sure how to react until Zach kissed him full on the lips. When they broke away, Zach kissed his way to Tom’s ear and whispered very quietly, “Play along. It’s what they like.”

Tom glanced briefly at his Master and Zach’s Mistress. Master Sebastian was watching with rapt attention, and Kate seemed like she was getting ideas from watching the display. He looked back up at Zach who smiled at him sweetly and kissed him again, hands weaving into his hair. Tom grew bolder, winding his arms around Zach’s waist and pulling him closer. Zach moaned into the kiss, letting his eyes slip shut.

It turned out that Zach was _very_ responsive. At the right times he would let out these delicious, little moans and whimpers. He would bite just so on Tom’s bottom lip and grind down on him and run his fingers through his hair. Zach was experienced in this manner. He was trained and taught to put on a show. As inexperienced as Tom was, he simply listened to what his body was telling him and followed through with the motions.

When they pulled away at last, Zach was looking down at him with—what was it?—admiration? Pleasure? Was he pleased with Tom’s response to the scene? Well, whatever it was, Tom found that he couldn’t look away. Zach was captivating. The way he held himself made it seem like he was fragile and delicate. But he responded with the intensity that matched the sun.

“That’s enough, Zach,” Kate said. Zach pulled away from Tom, returning to his Mistress’s side while Master Sebastian sat down beside him once more. “Someone’s enthusiastic tonight,” she said, cupping Zach’s chin and forcing his head up. “Does he kiss well, love?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Well, soon you’ll get to find out if he’s a good fuck as well.” She released his chin and crossed her legs, turning her attention back to Master Sebastian. “Do we have a deal now?”

“That was hot as fuck,” Master Sebastian said, turning his head to look at Tom. “As long as we play it safe, I’m in.”

Kate grinned. “It’s a date then.”

* * *

So Tom didn’t have anything to say in the matter. He had just met Zach, and now their owners wanted them to have sex so they could watch for their own pleasure. Tom was nervous. He felt like he was going to screw this up and disappoint his Master. He felt like he would be too nervous and that the entire night would be uncomfortable and terrifying. He just didn’t know what to expect and felt very in the dark about everything. But Master Sebastian just held him and told him how great he was going to be.

“Can’t get that fucking picture out of my head,” he whispered. “Just think about it, watching that slave of hers taking your cock all the way, watching your muscles quiver to hold yourself back. It’s going to be a great night. You’ll see.”

“Yes, Master.”

* * *

They met up with Kate and Zach two weeks later. They arrived at the club around nine. Tom was wearing his best: dark blue jeans that hung low on his hips, a thin black t-shirt, and his boots. It was too warm to wear his coat tonight. Before that he had washed himself _thoroughly._ Master Sebastian had praised him for the smoothness of his skin and the fragrance he wore, which always made Tom smile and lashes flutter. But he also hoped that Zach would find him appealing in some way to make the night less awkward. They were, after all, two strangers who were going to have sex.

The higher floors of the club were more secluded and harder to get into. There were rooms up there, pairs of people (slave and owner or two free people) drifting up and down the stairs with hazy intentions. Tom followed Master Sebastian up the stairs. They were to meet Kate and Zach up there.

They met up at one of the rooms with its door closed and locked tight. Kate and Master Sebastian talked for a bit, talking about price and catching up a little bit before they went to hunt down the person that had the key to the room they wanted. They left their slaves there, trusting that they wouldn’t wander off.

Zach came to stand beside Tom. Tom noticed he was wearing the lightest traces of makeup on his eyes. Eyeliner. Mascara. Some shading on his eyelids. Nothing too much or too noticeable, but it was definitely there to make his eyes stand out a bit more.

“You can relax, you know,” Zach said quietly. Tom turned to the side, surprised that Zach had spoken to him.

“Ex-excuse me?”

Zach smiled a little. “This night is for us just as much as them.” He shifted to stand a little closer to Tom so that their shoulders were touching. “So just relax and enjoy yourself. Tonight is going to be great.”

“Have you, um.” Tom swallowed. He knew he had difficulty speaking to people who weren’t his Master, but he pushed past it because he had to ask. He had to know what exactly he was getting into. “Have you done this before?”

Zach nodded. “Plenty of times.”

“And what-what’s it like exactly?”

“Well, we’ll go inside. There will be a bed and some seats. Our owners will direct us, but once we get down to it, it’ll be all us.”

“And they just expect us to . . . to give them a show?”

“Basically. Tom, it doesn’t sound as bad as you think. Once we get things started, it’ll be much easier. You’ll see.” He placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

Their owners came back with one of the employees here. The door to the room was unlocked, and the two slaves were allowed in.

The room was dimly lit, but there was enough light to make everything out. Like the queen sized bed in the middle of the room and the lounge chairs off to the side with a full view of the bed. There was also a speaker somewhere in the room that played the same soft music this whole floor had. Tom felt his heart racing, but Zach looked back at him and smiled. Easy for him to look so relaxed. He’d been through this before.

The door was closed behind them. Zach approached the bed while Master Sebastian and Kate took their position by the chairs. Tom drifted closer to Zach, but still did not know what to expect. So he kicked his boots off first, figuring that was the best place to start at. He bent down to quickly pull off his socks and booted everything underneath the bed for the time being.

“Tom,” Master Sebastian said. “I want you to undress Zach and get him ready.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And take your time, Tom,” Kate said. “We’re in no rush tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zach was watching him closely as Tom stepped forward. Tom knew he had to put on a show for his Master and Zach’s Mistress. He didn’t want to disappoint, so he plucked up his resolve and surged forward to plant a heavy kiss on Zach’s lips. Zach liked that very much, for he returned the kiss with matching enthusiasm, arms coming up to pull Tom closer.

When they broke apart, Tom took Zach by the shoulder and gently pushed him down onto the bed. Zach bit his bottom lip, looking up at Tom with a look that said, ‘Come on. I dare you.’ He bore down on Zach, who spread his legs to accommodate Tom between them. They kissed some more while Tom tugged at the bottom of Zach’s shirt. The other slave willing lifted his arms up so Tom could take the shirt off and toss it onto the floor. Even in the dim lighting Tom could make out fading bruises on Zach’s hips. They were all the same square-ish shape, obviously left behind by some sort of implement. Like a riding crop. And his nipples had been pierced, for he wore two gold rings. His chest was heaving. He was already aroused from the situation and they hadn’t even finished undressing yet.

When Tom took off his pants, he momentarily forgot that he was wearing black, lacy panties. It was just a habit now to wear them when Master Sebastian was at the apartment. But here and know he felt extremely self-conscious, hands fumbling as he heard Kate’s soft laugh. It was then that Zach’s hands were on his arms, stroking reassuringly and smiling softly like he understood the embarrassment and sudden shame. Tom directed his focus on the other slave. Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad.

Without it being directly said, Zach was bottoming this time. Their owners were watching patiently from where they sat, saying nothing and letting their slaves dictate the pace and actions. Tom spotted a small and somewhat tacky end table beside the bed with a few condoms and a bottle of lube. Obviously this place came prepared for everything.

He reached for the condom and tore open the package. Zach reached between their bodies to grip both their cocks and stroke them in time, wringing out moans and gasps from the both of them. Tom rolled the condom onto his length and reached for the bottle of lube. He coated one of his fingers and reached down towards Zach’s entrance. He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating and how his hands were shaking.

He breached the other slave who let out a small gasp. Tom was surprised to find that Zach was already a little loose. He came a little bit prepared. With more lube it was easy to push two fingers in and work Zach open a little more. When he slipped a third finger in, Zach let his head fall back onto the pillows and closed his eyes. When Tom felt that Zach was ready for him, he removed his fingers and applied more lube to his cock before positioning himself between Zach’s legs, poised to enter. Zach felt the shift of the bed and opened his eyes. He lifted his legs, placed them on either side of Tom’s waist. With one look at Zach, Tom slowly entered.

He wanted to take his time. He wanted this to be somewhat special. In his mind he imagined this scene to be something different. He wasn’t a slave. Zach wasn’t either. They were both free men. Perhaps they knew each other, met each other through friends and became something more than that. They would go to the movies after having a lovely dinner at a very nice restaurant. They probably wouldn’t watch much of the movie, being much more interested in each other. Hands touching, leaning over for a kiss before their baser urges consumed them. They would return to one of their apartments (or possibly shared) and leave a line of shed clothing that led towards the bedroom. From there on it was almost easy to fall into his daydream and see Zach in a different light.

He bent down to kiss the other slave on the lips. Zach moaned, opening his mouth readily and winding his arms around Tom’s neck to hold him close. He thrust in lazily, taking his time and treating Zach like something akin to a lover and not like the sex slave he currently was.

Zach’s cock was trapped between their bodies, leaking precome and left neglected until Tom wrapped his long fingers around it, stroking in time with his thrusts.

Kate was right when she’d said that Zach made the most beautiful noises when on his back. Tom couldn’t tell if they were genuine or not, if Zach was trained like this or if this was natural, but either way, the little hitches in his breath and the way he gasped and moaned sent shivers down Tom’s spine, making the urge to consume this other man rise.

Tom could feel when Zach was close. He trembled and shivered, keeping his eyes closed and writhing on the covers as much as he could what with Tom’s weight pinning him in place. The muscles in his legs quivered, thighs squeezing and caves urging Tom to drive deeper.

When Zach opened his eyes, they were brimming with tears. Tom was shocked. Was he hurting the other man? Was something wrong?

“Mistress,” he called out softly. “May I come?”

“No,” Kate replied simply. “I want you to remember this moment. Feel how big he is, love. How full he makes you feel.”

Zach groaned, closing his eyes as Tom continued to thrust inside of him, brushing over his prostate. His orgasm was prolonged for as long as he could manage. Until he was a babbling mess that _begged_ his Mistress for the permission to come. Tom fucked him through his orgasm, groaning at the way Zach tightened around him, milking him for all he was worth.

Tom collapsed onto Zach before pulling out and rolling off of him. In his daydream this would be the part where they would say something to one another. Or perhaps just kiss and cuddle and eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms. But the daydream had to end.

“That was fucking hot,” Master Sebastian said breathlessly.

Zach moved away from Tom, rolling off the bed so he could kneel before his Mistress. Tom lay on the bed, waiting for something. An order maybe.

Master Sebastian approached him. Tom sat up on the bed. He caught a glimpse of Zach kneeling between Kate’s legs to bring her to climax. Tom saw the bulge in his Master’s trousers. He wondered what would happen next.

* * *

After their owners had been given their own relief, Zach and Tom were given time to clean themselves in one of the nearby bathrooms. There was a bottle of mouthwash in there, which Tom used. His mouth tasted bitterly. He washed his face, scrubbing off the dried come. What he really wanted to do was to take a shower, but the night was still young. His Master would probably want to stay for a while yet.

He spat into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. Zach did the same. Tom felt like he needed to say something after what had taken place between them. It could’ve been worse, he mused. Much worse. But this night was full of nothing but tender caresses and sweet love making.

“Zach,” he said. “I, um, wanted to uh . . .” What could he say? “I guess that—”

Zach cut him off with a grin and closed the distance between them to press a gentle kiss on Tom’s cheek. “You don’t need to say anything,” he said. “I get it.”

They left the bathroom to return to their owners on the lower floor. Their owners had drinks ready for them, providing them each with a cold bottle of water.  Their owners talked to each other of subjects that mattered little to their slaves. So while Tom leaned against the bar and sipped his water, Zach was looking at him. He was smiling a little, sometimes looking away, but acting as playful as he could without disturbing his Mistress. Tom smiled, looking down and taking another sip.

He wished he could get to know Zach a bit better and that they didn’t have to be silent next to their owners. There were a lot of things he wished for, but he took what he could get these days. In this situation you couldn’t afford to be choosy. And if Zach was offering to be his friend, then Tom might as well accept it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we're getting into the more sex slave kind of atmosphere I was after. Leave comments and kudos if you please. I really like knowing what you guys think. Thank you!


	27. Chapter Twenty-seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talking and emotional fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up earlier, but this chapter was making things a little difficult for me. I was trying to figure out how these characters would react to each other when something like this is brought up. I feel okay with the final product, but still. Hard for me to write. But it's up and we're here.

“He likes me?”

“Yes. He really does.”

“Like, how does he like me? Just like or like-like?”

“I think it’s more like-like. You’ve really made a safe place for him here.”

“Well, you helped out with that, too. It wasn’t all me.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t approached in two sexual manners. You handled yourself well, and I think that shows in him. He trusts you. A lot.”

Chris likes to think he handled himself well in both those situations. He approached them as calmly as he could to get Tom to relax and feel safe around him. Sure, there were a few minor drawbacks, but the situation was handled and here they are today.

“How do you know he likes me?” he asks.

Elsa slides closer to him. “Well, it’s whenever you come home that I can tell. He always opens the door for you.”

“He does that for you, too.”

“Yeah, but he waits for you. He keeps looking at the door and waiting for you to arrive. He likes it when you’re around. He’s calmer.”

It is true. Chris has sort of noticed that. Tom does open the door whenever he can, always standing there with a small smile as Chris enters the house. While he doesn’t say much, he does like to be near Chris, eyes following him as he drifts from the kitchen to the living room or up and down the stairs.

“What do you think about him?” she asks. “About this?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well, do you like Tom?”

“Like him or like-like him?” he asks. There is a big difference between the two. And he doesn’t know what to say about this. What does he actually feel towards Tom? Yes, he’s come to care for Tom and consider him part of this family. But what about all those other moments that he separates from just caring? The foot rub, the books, the haircut, the run, the times they’ve cooked together. There’s definitely something else there; something that is wholly and uniquely for Tom.

“Like-like him,” Elsa says.

“Elsa—”

“Don’t worry, Chris. I know you love me. But I also know that you have a very big heart and a very large capacity to love. If we consider Tom to be part of this family—which I think he is—then we have to admit what we feel towards him.”

Obviously Elsa must know about the events between Chris and Tom. Maybe she’s had her own moments with Tom.

“I do like him,” he says. “I’m not sure how much I like him, but I do. And I can’t explain it. I just happen to care for him a lot, and I think that there are still a lot of things I haven’t truly admitted to myself. It’s like I really want to make him happy because he deserves it, and I want him to know that it’s safe here and that he can depend on us and come to us when he needs help.”

Elsa squeezes him around the waist as his heart beats away. “I know what you mean. I like Tom, too. There’s something about him. Even after everything he’s been through, he’s still so tender and kind.”

That’s the one thing that never ceases to amaze Chris. Tom can still be so happy and charming despite the fact that he’s been beaten down at every possible moment. While he may not seem like it at times, Tom is very strong.

 “We can’t let him go,” Chris says quietly, because it’s true. They’ve brought Tom this far, and neither would be able to see Tom go. He’s already imaging it, the unthinkable scenario. Tom would be so fragile again. He might cry. He won’t talk. He’ll become lifeless again, and that is not something Chris will be able to live with.

“No,” Elsa agrees. “We can’t. But what will we do when his contract is up and he’s freed?”

Chris hasn’t thought of that before. They had the original intention to keep Tom until his contract was up or until they were forced to sell him. But when he’s freed, what’s going to happen then? Will Tom want to leave or will he want to stay? It’s not like he has assets to get himself a house or anything. He’s not even from this country, so it’s not like he’ll be able to go home to his family.

“We can ask him,” Chris says. “See what he thinks on the matter.”

“Just in case I think we should prepare to give him his own space if he decides to stay. I wouldn’t mind if he stayed. Especially when the new baby arrives.”

While it’s nice to hear that Tom is becoming a more important part of their family, Chris is still slightly concerned about this new revelation. He didn’t admit it to himself at first that he did like Tom in a certain manner, but now that he admits him to himself he doesn’t know how far this liking will go. Will it develop into something else? Will Tom reciprocate? Elsa seems to think so, and she also likes Tom as well. But there is still a lot of things that are unknown. It’s all up in the air, and it makes Chris feel kind of sick in his stomach. Tom may be recovering from years of trauma and is showing great signs that he’s doing better, but Chris doesn’t know how Tom will to react to any of this. He might think that all this niceness was a just a way to get into his pants. That this is just the subtle way to make him calm and pliant. That Chris was just waiting until Tom began to trust him.

Which it isn’t. At all. The last thing Chris wants to do is to hurt Tom.

* * *

He and Tom are home alone the next night as Elsa has to work late. So they have the run of the house: feeding India, making dinner, cleaning the kitchen, and putting India to bed. They don’t go for a run that night, but decide just to relax in the living room for tonight. Chris has no problem with that and stretches his legs out on the floor. He’s got his laptop on his lap and is scrolling through listings for available houses. With their family growing, they need a bigger house.

Tom is curled up in his chair with another book. He doesn’t look comfortable like that. It can’t be good for his neck sitting curled up like that, but whatever. As long as he’s happy.

Tom flips through his pages as Chris scrolls on through page after page of housing lists. What they’re looking for in a house is something local. Not too far from their work, but in a nice enough neighbourhood that’s preferably quiet and not too far from anything like grocery stores and the like. They want something a bit bigger than what they have now, something with a basement. Two floors, four bedrooms, a proper room for their washer and dryer. A nice deck out back would also be nice, but they haven’t discussed their budget yet and what they’re willing to spend on the new house. So he marks down the pages of the houses he likes without bothering at looking at the price for now. It’s a start.

Tom sets his book down and sits up, stretching his arms above his head before working out the kinks in his neck. He gets up and goes into the kitchen, rustling around for a few minutes before returning with some tea. Before he sits down again, Chris speaks up.

“If you want, you can use the couch,” he says. “I can just take the chair.”

“Oh, no,” Tom says. “I’m fine where I am.”

“Come on, Tom. That chair isn’t the greatest. We can share the couch if that makes you feel better.” To be a little more convincing, Chris slides to one end of the couch, leaving two cushions for Tom to use.

Tom eventually nods and brings his book over to the couch. He sets a pillow against the armrest and moves to lie down with his legs curled up. They settle back into silence for a while. Chris hunts on for the houses that he thinks would be good for them as he feels the slightest brush of Tom's feet against his leg.

“You know we’re moving, right?” Chris asks

“Yeah,” Tom responds a few seconds later. “Elsa told me. When do you think this will happen?”

“We’re not sure. Not for a while, though. We still have to discuss a lot about what we want and can afford. We also don’t know whether we want to move before or after the baby is born.” He looks closer at the listing of this one particular house. “What do you think of this one?” He angles the laptop close to Tom.

Tom sits up and leans over Chris’s shoulder to get a closer look. This house is so far the best one Chris has seen so far through his research. It’s local and in a quiet neighbourhood with enough space in the backyard for the kids to play in. It has two floors with a basement. It’s an open concept main floor with a separate room for a home office and a bathroom. The second floor has three bedrooms (one of which is a master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom) and a common bathroom. The basement is not overly large, but there is a room for a washer and dryer as well as a spare bedroom. It’s actually a pretty good house and a decent price. Plus the spare bedroom in the basement would be a perfect place for Tom, for him to have some sort of place he can call his own.

“It’s nice,” Tom says, moving away from Chris a little but not yet returning to his book.

“We probably won’t get that house,” Chris says. “But it’s something to go off of.”

“Of course. It is a nice house.”

“It is.”

Chris clicks through the photos of the house. Tom is still looking at them, blue eyes flicking back and forth, lashes fluttering. Chris swallows and shifts on the couch. Tom leans away as he shuts the laptop, setting it onto the coffee table. It’s quiet now. The TV isn’t on.

There’s a lot he wants to tell Tom. And now would be the time to do it.

“Tom,” he says.

Tom turns in his seat. “Yes?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about. When we made the decision to keep you, we didn’t know what that would mean.” Tom looks nervous, so Chris quickly adds, “We’re still keeping you. That hasn’t changed. What we’ve been talking about is the possibility of you getting your freedom back. We don’t know when your contract will end, but we do want you to know that you’ll always have a home here if you’d like to stay after you’re free again.”

“You mean you want me to stay with you?”               

“If that’s what you want, we can make room for you; give you a little more space.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Chris says. “Elsa and I really like having you around the house. We wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

“Thank you,” Tom says suddenly. He’s looking at Chris. “I never really thought about what I would do once I was free again. It never really occurred to me that I’d be free again one day and that I wouldn’t be kicked out immediately.”

“We would never—”

“I know. I know that now. I know you and Elsa would never hurt me in any way. But it’s just hard sometimes to remember that I’m safe here and that you’re not like them.”

“Like your other owners?”

Tom nodded, looking away for a moment. “You never know what they’re going to be like at first.” He looks up again, shooting Chris a thin smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chris already knows that Tom’s past is going to be hurtful and dark, but he wants to know so he can comfort Tom and give him what he needs to realize that that part in his life is officially over. No need to be scared anymore.

But Tom shakes his head, and Chris isn’t going to push him to it. “Maybe one day, but not now. I just can’t do it.”

“That’s fine. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

Tom nods but says nothing more on the matter. He seems to be lost in thought, so Chris sets his hand down on his shoulder just to be a reassuring presence, reminding Tom  that he’s here.

Tom may have been skittish before especially whenever someone was in his personal space. He was always flinching a little back then, but now he’s getting used to Chris and Elsa being so close to him. And that’s a good thing. Chris doesn’t want Tom being afraid anymore.

Tom leans into the touch, turning his head to look at Chris. Chris feels like he needs to say more to Tom. A lot more. But he can’t quite figure out what words he needs to say. So he just rubs Tom’s shoulder a bit before letting his hand drop and standing with the intent of getting something to drink from the kitchen. But Tom stands up as well, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chris keeps heading into the kitchen. Tom follows.

He leans against the doorway to the kitchen as Chris gets out a glass and opens the fridge door to see what’s available.

“Um, Chris,” Tom says. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.” Pour himself a glass.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Chris digs out the orange juice from the back.

“Well, um, I wanted to tell you that I am very grateful for what you and Elsa have given me here. I’ve really come to like it here and what I’m able to do for you and Elsa and . . . and India. But the thing is . . . I feel like I need to tell you something. And I’m afraid to tell you because I don’t know how you’re going to take it.”

Chris takes a sip from his glass before setting it down on the counter. He’s glad that Tom is more open with him. It’s a huge improvement from before, but he understands how wary Tom is still. He still has to be somewhat guarded because he has been let down so many times in the past. Anything good that happens to him doesn’t come free.

“Well, what is it that you want to tell me?” Chris asks.

Tom is wringing his hands. He shrugs, eyes darting around the room. “I don’t want to ruin the relationship we have with each other.”

“I promise that what you say to me will not change what I think of you. Promise.” Chris knows how important it is for Tom to be able to trust him. That’s what these past few months have all been about. Help Tom feel safe and have him to be able to trust Chris and Elsa to continue to provide that security without expecting anything in return.

“I don’t know how to explain this exactly, but I feel like this needs to be said before you plan on committing yourself to keeping me.”

Chris wants to object, that he’s always meant to keep Tom, but Tom continues before he can get a word out.

“I—I.” He starts several times before stopping and starting again. The next time he speaks, he says only three words. “I love you.”

There’s a brief pause in which the kitchen is entirely quiet. Then Tom is talking again, on the verge of babbling.

“What-what I mean to say is that, I, um, I really do like you. And I thought you needed to know how I felt because you plan on continuing to provide for me and giving me a home that I can continue to live in. You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to. I understand that. I just that I should let you know that that’s how I feel.”

“Tom—”

“You’ve made me feel safe, Chris,” he continues, voice catching a little. “You’ve given me something that I could only dream about. I can never repay you for what you and Elsa have given me over the past several months, but I now know that you never expect me to repay you. And for the first time I dare to hope that everything is going to be okay. And that I just—”

This is where Chris stops Top from saying anything more just by setting his hand down on Tom’s. Tom is starting to babble, a nervous habit of his. Chris doesn’t need to hear anymore. Everything that needs to be said has basically been said.

“I get it,” Chris says. “I never imagined that it would come this far between us. That you would basically be living with us for the foreseeable future. I’ve come to really like you, too. And I don’t know how far this mutual feeling between us will go, but I will never stop caring about you. Okay?”

Tom nods, loosely gripping Chris’s hand in return. He shifts a little on his feet before Chris steps forward and wraps his arms around him. Tom is, at first, a little stiff, but melts into the embrace all the same, reminding Chris of that one night where both had fallen to the kitchen floor and held onto each other tightly.

While it may not be perfect and there are still many things to do and discuss, Chris feels like for once everything is going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleh. I am done for the night. See you next time.


	28. Chapter Twenty-eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom learns that he doesn't have to be alone forever and that friends can be made in the most unlikely of places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with more Zach and Tom stuff. That's all I've got to say.

Tom saw Zach frequently in the future. Their owners continued to set up these ‘dates’ for them. It was always something different and new. The next time they got together Tom was on his hands and knees, head pressed into the pillows as Zach rutted into him from behind. It was a little harsher than their last tryst together, but their owners dictated the pace.

While he never said it to anyone, he did like it when Zach gripped his waist and pulled him back onto his cock. He liked it when there was just enough force behind the thrust for him to see stars. He liked it when Zach took control and made him whine and keen in return.

Now that Kate and Master Sebastian had rekindled their friendship, Tom also found that he had a friend in Zach. They were in the same boat, although it was clear that Zach’s relationship with his Mistress was harsher than the vanilla life Tom had with Master Sebastian.

Zach would have bruises on his skin usually every time they got together. They centered around his hips and on his back, all the same square-ish shape as before. Sometimes there would be red rings around his throat or wrists. Sometimes ankles as well. But he never once lost his smile or playful attitude. Probably for Tom’s benefit more than his.

While they didn’t talk while they were near their owners, their owners did trust them enough to leave them for a bit to wander through the club and meet up with old friends. Only then did Tom and Zach begin to open up to one another. They stood where they were left, crowding closer to one another so they wouldn’t be overheard or in the way.

They talked about anything they could think of, avoiding touchy subjects like home or what they planned to do with their lives after . . . this ended. They talked about their interests and passions. What they liked and didn’t like. They confided things with each other that they didn’t dare share with their owners. It was nice to be able to trust someone this well. Tom felt like he was able to breathe properly around Zach and be a little more like himself than just Master Sebastian’s boy.

Every time they parted ways with their owners—whether they had sex that night or not—they would kiss. They weren’t lovers. It was just something they did, something familiar. Plus it never hurt just to give their owners a little something extra.

“You’ve certainly taken a shine to Zach,” Master Sebastian said one night as he drove them home. “He’s nice, though, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Master. He is.”

“Do you like him?”

He didn’t know what he should say. Would it offend his Master if he said he did? So all that he admitted to was, “I’m fond of him.”

Master Sebastian merely grinned and set his hand down on Tom’s thigh. “I’m sure you are.”

* * *

They never had sex the same way twice. Their owners took control more and more often, dictating the position and pace, when they were allowed to come and stop. Sometimes at the end of these nights both slaves were exhausted, covered in sweat and come, over sensitized and sore. Those were harder nights when it took more effort to please their owners. But Zach was like a rock for Tom, someone to depend on and lean on when the night dragged on. Sometimes they had time to cuddle afterwards, but more often than not their owners wanted them to give them their release.

But there were a few rare times when they were allowed to lie next to each other. Sometimes that was all they did. Their owners paid for the room, but had no intentions of staying. Zach said later that sometimes there were public demonstrations.

“I’ve never been part of one,” he said. “Mistress Kate likes to watch them, but she’s pretty possessive over who gets to see me.”

They were lying on the bed together, naked but by now they were comfortable like this. Tom was lying on his stomach with his head on his arms while Zach rested on his side. It was nice to have a moment to themselves instead of having others around them.

“What makes me so special then?” Tom asked.

Zach shrugged one shoulder. “She and Sebastian have been close for a while. They’ve never really actually done something like this before together. I know they’ve wanted to, but Sebastian could never really find the right slave for himself.”

Tom smiled and burrowed his heard further into his arms. He raised an arm and let his fingertips trail down Zach’s chest. Both had familiarized themselves with the other’s body. It wasn’t awkward to share this close intimacy and remain friends. It was normal between them. He trailed a finger over one of the nipple rings. Zach jerked, but relaxed into the gentle touch.

“Your Mistress,” he said. “Is she kind to you?”

Zach closed his eyes, sighing as Tom trailed his fingers down his chest and stomach. “She is what she is,” he admitted. “It could be worse, right?” He opened his eyes and smiled a little. Tom let his eyes drop. He knew what Zach meant.

Zach didn’t want to talk anymore that night and pulled Tom closer for a kiss. When their owners returned, it was their turn to close the night and do what they were supposed to do.

Tom thought Zach looked very tired after that night.

* * *

Not only was Zach a constant comfort during those long nights, he was also a useful source of information about the regulars who frequented the club. He would share stories with Tom about them. Most of them funny. Some of them a little hard to hear. He pointed out the ones Tom should be wary of if they should ever approach his Master.

“What about him?” Tom asked, pointing to the man named Tony who’d always been glancing at Tom from afar ever since Master Sebastian had bought him.

“Who? Tony?” Tom nodded. “He’s been here for a few years. I’m not sure what he does outside of the club, but I do know that he finds slaves for people. Like what their particular tastes are and what they’re really looking for in a slave like us.”

“So he buys and sells?” Tom asked.

Zach nodded. “I guess you could say it like that. Has he been looking at you then?”

“Yes. I don’t like it.”

Zach turned a little to look Tom dead in the eyes. “You should know that Tony is also interested in borrowing a slave here for the night. Some of the owners do that here. They like to see what they’re slave is capable of taking, so some of them are given out to Tony for a night. I’ve never been part of one. Mistress Kate is, like I’ve told you, possessive over me.”

“If he’s looking at me then,” Tom said, “do you think that maybe he’ll ask my Master to have a night with me?”

Zach shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know what he’s like?”

“I hear he’s rough.”

Tom looked across the room and saw Tony, who was looking away at the moment. It was then that he wished his Master was nearby to feel some form of protection.

* * *

Tom knew Zach wasn’t feeling like himself nearing their last times together. He still put the same enthusiasm into their couplings, but his spirit was gone. He could see it in the other slave’s eyes. Their owners didn’t seem to notice it. They still got off on their actions and didn’t seem to notice that Zach was completely exhausted by the end of the night. They still kissed when they parted, but something was lacking in it.

The next time they met up, Tom paid a little more attention to Zach. Perhaps it was just a spell. When they were left alone, Tom shifted closer to him. Zach had his arms crossed on the table. Tom gripped his wrist lightly.

“Are you all right, Zach?” he asked quietly, leaning his head closer to Zach’s so they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone.

Zach looked up, but his smile was thin. “Just tired,” he said. “It’s fine.”

But it bothered Tom that Zach wasn’t all right.

That night their owners wanted it slow, drawn out as long as possible. Tom was on top, and he took his time to worship Zach’s body the way he deserved. He took liberties in kissing him, planting his lips of every patch of skin as he worked his way downwards. He tugged on the nipple rings, earning a groan from Zach as he arched into the touch. He continued down to Zach’s cock, which was hard and leaking from the attention. He wrapped his hand around it, stroking it a few times before lowering his head and wrapping his lips around the head. Zach moaned, fisting his hands into the sheets.

He opened up Zach slowly, taking his time as their owners so wished. Zach kept his eyes closed as Tom rolled a condom onto his length and pushed in gently. They reached for each other, hands seeking, somehow knowing that this might be the last time they’d be together.

Tom kept his pace slow, pulling out until just the tip was in before sheathing himself fully. He made sure to treat him gently like a lover would. He thought that Zach had been treated too roughly in his relationship with his Mistress and needed some much desired tender sex than whatever she used him for.

He kissed Zach’s tears away, holding the other slave close as they both neared their climax. Zach trembled beneath him as Tom lowered his head to suck a bruise over Zach’s brand.

They held onto each other tightly as they trembled, coming down from orgasm induced highs. Zach did not look at Tom. He didn’t even open his eyes later. When his Mistress called him to her side, they parted, and Zach went on his knees before her.

They kissed before leaving, lingering a little longer before returning to their owners’ sides.

In the car ride home, Master Sebastian talked about the events of that night. “Kate’s been worried about Zach recently. Says he hasn’t been feeling well. Have you noticed any changes in his behaviour?”

“He seems tired, Master,” Tom said.

“Well, I don’t think that’s all of it. She’s had him for three years now. I know she can be demanding sometimes, but she is a very good Mistress to her slaves. I think Zach is just realizing now that he can’t keep up with her forever.”

“What will happen to him then?” It was a redundant question, but Tom wanted to be sure he knew the answer.

“She’ll probably sell him soon. She’s already noticed how tired he is.”

They went upstairs to the apartment and made out like horny teenagers on the bed, grinding against each other, still fully clothes while grasping at the other and pulling each other closer. They didn’t have sex because Tom was already exhausted, but it was enough to placate them both.

They took off their clothes, tossing them onto the floor and getting under the blankets. Master Sebastian whispered to Tom how much he loved him and thought he was beautiful. How special he was. Eventually he drifted off for good, leaving Tom some time with his thoughts.

He wondered what Zach’s life was with his Mistress. They never did go into any details since it seemed to make Zach uncomfortable. But there were enough pieces there for Tom to see that Zach was forced into something that made him very uncomfortable. He was trained to respond to certain stimuli, learned how to become what his Mistress was after.

It must’ve been hard on him to adapt to something he wasn’t naturally inclined to. Tom was sort of in the same boat, but Master Sebastian didn’t pressure him into anything. He was gentle in his teachings, rewarding Tom and always making sure he got the comfort and care he needed afterwards. And the sex was actually quite nice. He wasn’t hurt, wasn’t abused, wasn’t smacked around like Zach obviously was. Kate must’ve been a sadist to some degree, forcing Zach into the role of her obedient sub. Tom knew that that was not how things worked normally. But Zach was a slave. He was different. He was lesser. And because of that he could be made to do anything and he would have to take it all.

Tom was very glad to have a master like Master Sebastian. He could’ve ended up in the wrong hands or worse. Still be with Master Cole and his constant abuse.

He wrapped himself around Master Sebastian, fitting in close and soaking up the warmth of his body. Master Sebastian’s breathing was peaceful. Calm. Tom let his eyes close and let sleep take him.

* * *

They didn’t go to the club for a month after that. It seemed like Master Sebastian needed a break from that type of atmosphere for a while. He still showed up on the weekends, but on Saturday nights he would leave the apartment alone.

“Going to have poker night at Cole’s,” Master Sebastian said, looking over his shoulder to see Tom’s reaction.

“Oh.” Tom knew that Master Sebastian still saw Cole, but he never really mentioned it like this. Tom knew very well that if he hadn’t been bought, he would either be brought back to the center or still serving Cole as his sadistic Master. He was glad that Master Sebastian came around when he did.

“I’d like to see his face if he knew what I made of you.” Master Sebastian smiled and turned back to cage Tom in on the couch, bringing his face down to Tom’s level. He smiled like a shark, all teeth and somewhat menacing.

Tom blushed at the suggestive words. Master Cole would definitely have a good laugh at this, as it would confirm his thoughts of Tom being a whore.

“But I think it’s best if we just keep this between the two of us. Keep ’em guessing.” He dropped a kiss to Tom’s cheek before dashing out of apartment.

Tom had a quiet night. He went to bed at a respectable time, but stayed up in bed for a bit to read his book. Master Sebastian was not yet home when he turned out the light, but he didn’t mind. Master Sebastian would always return.

Sure enough, around two in the morning, Tom awoke briefly to feel a warm body close in behind him. Arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him back for more skin on skin contact. (Tom rarely wore clothes to bed when Master Sebastian was home.) Lips graced the back of his neck just below his hairline.

Tom sighed, relaxing in his Master’s loose hold. “Love you, Master,” he murmured sleepily.

He felt another kiss on the back of his neck. “Love you, too, babe.”

* * *

The next time they visited the club and saw Kate, she had a new slave. Zach was gone, sold to a different person in the city or maybe in a different one. All that really mattered was that Tom was alone. He only had his Master for companionship now. Which he didn’t mind, but he liked Zach for different reasons than he liked Master Sebastian.

So he leaned into his Master’s touch as he talked to his friends, seeking out his companionship and intimacy to remind himself that he wasn’t actually alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. So that's the end of Zach. Like I've got Zach's entire life figured out in my head in relation to my story, but he's not coming back in this one. We'll see if I plan something else.


	29. Chapter Twenty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Elsa go to the doctor's to check up on the baby, and Chris gets a surprise email.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally meant to have this up yesterday. Stuff came up. Anyways, enjoy!

On a Wednesday morning, Elsa has an ultrasound scheduled to see how the baby is doing. Chris takes the morning off of work to be with her. They were with each other during India’s first ultrasound, and they wish to share this moment together.

Tom is excited for them. He’s become like an uncle to India and can’t wait for the newest addition to the family. He sees them off to the hospital with a bright smile.

“So I was thinking we could go looking for houses next weekend,” Elsa says.

“You want to start now?”

“Well, yeah. Now rather than later. We can also talk to a realtor about selling the house, see what the market is like.”

“Sounds good to me.” He drops one hand from the steering wheel to feel around for Elsa’s. He finds it, entwines their fingers, and doesn’t let go.

* * *

At their scheduled time, Chris and Elsa are shown into the room that holds the ultrasound equipment. Elsa gets settled on the special chair before Dr. Yuma comes in. She was present during India’s ultrasound, so it’s only logical that they return to her.

“Chris and Elsa,” she says with a smile. “Hello again!”

“Hello, Dr. Yuma,” Elsa says. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“It’s wonderful to see you both as well. I’m happy to see that the Hemsworth family is growing. And how is India?”

“She’s good. She’s getting so big already, taking her first steps and teething. Hard to believe she’s already turned one.”

“They grow up so fast,” the doctor agrees as she pulls on a pair of rubber gloves and readies the gel for Elsa’s stomach.

Chris helps Elsa unfold the blanket to settle it on her lower half as her shirt is lifted to bare her stomach. Dr. Yuma drizzles a liberal portion of the gel on Elsa’s stomach and proceeds to turn on the ultrasound machine.

“All right,” she says. “Let’s see how far along you are now.”

Under her practiced hands, Dr. Yuma is able to locate the bean sized child and points to it on the screen. “That is your baby there,” she says with a smile.

It’s only their second child, but Chris is still amazed to see that the small patch on the screen is their child. Then Dr. Yuma decides to turn on the volume to let them listen to the heartbeat, which then gives her pause.

“I think I hear two heartbeats,” she says.

“Two,” Elsa says. “You mean like—”

Dr. Yuma nods. “Congratulations, Chris. Elsa. You are pregnant with twins!”

* * *

Twins. They’re going to have twins. Two babies. Chris is worried and excited at the same time as they drive back to the house. He’s excited because their family is going to have two new additions in about six months. Two babies to watch over and hold and play with and cuddle with. He can’t wait for it. But two babies also means a lot more care than one, a lot more time and effort and supplies. But they’re a three man team now. They’ll manage. It’s not going to be so overwhelming.

When they get home, Chris has a few minutes to spare before he has to go to work. He pulls Elsa to him and holds her tightly. They laugh a little, caught in their emotions and the fact that they’re going to have twins. Twins! It’s almost hard to believe.

Chris has to leave right away, so they don’t have the time to tell Tom together. Elsa will probably tell him when he comes to the main floor of the house. That’s good enough for now. He’ll probably be approached by Tom tonight.

* * *

Chris is still feeling a little bit energetic that night, so he invites Tom out to go for a run. They still run every now and then to make sure Tom gets out of the house for something that actually seems to relax him. Running seems to do Tom good. Even though he’s breathless after, he seems calmer, burning off excess energy he can’t from doing simple house chores. Plus it’s always nice to see Tom with a sleepy smile on his face after he’s settled down for the night on the couch or curled up in his chair.

That night Tom beats Chris back to the house. Chris’s leg, despite the physical therapy, is still trying to regain its former strength. So running is good for the exercise, but Tom, with those long limbs of his, is quite fast and makes it home a few moments before Chris does.

He’s sitting on the porch steps, leaning against the railing while trying to catch his breath as Chris takes his last steps.

“Thought I lost you back there,” Tom says, smiling.

“You’re going to have to be faster than that to lose me.”

“I’ll try better next time.”

Chris grins and sits down next to Tom as they both try to catch their breath before going inside.

“I like running,” Tom says. “Sometimes I feel like I could just keep going, keep running until I’ve left all the pavement and asphalt behind. It’s freeing, you know. Running. There’s nothing that can stop me then.”

Chris understands. Running is not just a form of exercise to Tom. It’s a way for Tom to feel free and understand that he doesn’t have any boundaries anymore. At least, not those kind of boundaries. He can feel less afraid knowing that he can leave the house and do what he wants for once. That he can run and be free.

Nothing really needs to be said. Chris feels like actions can speak louder, so he hooks his arm around Tom’s narrow shoulders and pulls him into his side. Tom smiles and leans into the hold.

Since coming to their home, Tom is certainly looking better than before. When he first arrived, standing on the porch with his head down and shoulders slumped, he looked sickly. He was thin and pale then. But here he ate well and regularly, putting some meat back onto his willowy frame. And now that he’s able to go outside, he’s less pale, a little more golden. Overall he’s healthier than before, and Chris couldn’t be happier. Because seeing Tom like this compared to before is something Chris can be happy about. Because seeing Tom defenseless and in obvious pain makes Chris cringe. Because above all Tom matters to Chris. And whatever their differences might be and despite what society might say about Tom, Chris is always going to be there for him, making sure that society repays him what he is owed for all the years of service he has given.

* * *

There’s an email waiting for Chris at work one morning. It’s from the slave center, so of course he opens it right away.

_Dear Mr. Hemsworth,_

_It is our duty to inform you that Slave IC-782, who is currently under your name, is nearing the end of his service contract. In six months he will be released from his contact. If you plan on keeping IC-782 under your name, we will contact you again to remind you of the date in which you need to bring IC-782 to the nearest center to be released. If you have any questions, please contact us._

_Have a nice day!_

Chris finds he’s smiling after he reads the email. He prints it off and makes sure to take it home tonight to surprise Tom with.

As he goes through his work day, Chris realizes that there will be a lot to do in the next six months. There’s going to be a new baby, they have to move, and Tom will have the cuff from his wrist removed. There’s a lot of planning to do, and they really want to find a house before the babies are born. They want to be settled. They’ll have their friends help to move and settle in so Elsa doesn’t have to do any heavy lifting or shifting of furniture. And now that they have Tom in the house, it’ll be easier to pack things up.

He leaves work and makes it home in time. Tom is already cooking dinner. Spaghetti it looks like. Elsa is sitting at the kitchen table with her own laptop. Chris stops by to quickly give her a kiss on the cheek before going upstairs to change out of his work clothes.

“I talked to a realtor today,” Elsa says as soon as Chris enters the kitchen.

He sits down next to her, kissing her again. “Yes? And?”

“And she said she can help us sell the house and go over all the details. She wants to get together with us, and I told her we’re available this Saturday.”

Chris nods. “Sounds good. While we’re talking about this now, perhaps we should talk about what we want to look for a new house.”

“Have you been thinking about what you want?”

“Yeah. And I’ve been looking at some listing just to get an idea, and what we really need is more space.”

They talk about it, about what they would like to see in a new house. They decide a basement would be nice. Four bedrooms. An office. Something like that one house Chris was looking at on the internet. Tom stays busy in the kitchen and brings in the salads to start with as the spaghetti noodles continue cooking.

When Elsa puts away her laptop for the time being, they tuck into their salads. They decide that they want Tom’s opinion on the matter and ask him about it.

“Tom,” Chris says. “Is there anything you would like to see in the new house? Anything specific?”

“No. Not really. Whatever you decide shall be fine.”

It’s a Tom like answer, but Chris was hoping for something a little more. So instead of pressuring Tom, he decides to suggest to Elsa what he saw in that one house.

“I was thinking that maybe we could look for a basement with a spare room. Or something we could easily modify to have a spare room.”

Elsa catches on. “Like for Tom’s room, so he could have the run of the basement to himself when he wants.”

“That’s what I was thinking. That’s what I saw in that one house I was looking at earlier.”

“What do you think, Tom? Would you like a room like that?”

From Elsa’s prompting and listening to their discussion, Tom says, “I wouldn’t mind that. A bigger room would be nice to have.”

“All right,” Chris says. “We’ll keep that in mind then.”

With the salads finished, Tom clears the bowls and brings out the plates and spaghetti. During the time while he runs to the fro from the stove to the table, Chris goes to grab the letter he printed off from work.

“What’s that?” Elsa is looking over his shoulder to read the letter. He hands it to her.

“Got it this morning,” he says.

“ _Six months_.”

“I know.”

When Tom sits down and they begin to serve themselves some food, Chris discretely slides the letter across the table. Tom twirls his noodles onto his fork and frowns, looking down at the paper.

“What’s this?” he asks

“Read it,” Chris says. “It was sent to me this morning.”

They watch Tom carefully, studying his expressions as his eyes dart back and forth across the page. He stops chewing. He sets down his fork and his empty hand comes up to gently touch the tattoo under his shirt.

“Is this . . . is this true? What they say?” he asks, looking up.

“As far as I know,” Chris says, noticing the look of fragile and naked hope in Tom’s glistening eyes. “If you want me to double check with them, I can call in tomorrow.”

It takes a while for Tom to respond with a shake of the head. “It’s fine. You don’t need to.”

“Are you sure?”

Tom nods. “Yes, I am.”

The dinner lapses into silence. Tom is quiet now, no longer interested in his food but entirely focused on the paper in front of him. He eats a little but not much. There are tears welling up in his eyes, and he brings up one hand to rub at them.

“Oh, Tom,” Elsa murmurs as she comes around to the other side of the table to give him a comforting hug. “It’s all right.”

Chris sets down his fork and pushes the plates to the side so he can reach for Tom’s hands. “What’s wrong, Tom?”

“Nothing,” he croaks, gripping onto his hands and relaxing in Elsa’s light hold. “It’s-it’s just that I’ve been a slave for _so_ long that I forgot that some-someday it would end. I-I guess it just caught me by surprise is all.” He sniffles, and Elsa gets up to grab him a few tissues.

“I am happy,” he says, dabbing away at where the tears have fallen. “I am. I just feel . . .”

“Overwhelmed?” Chris says.”

Tom nods. He takes a few moments to calm himself and breathe deeply, closing his eyes so that the last of the tears fall from his lashes. He opens his eyes and looks at Chris and Elsa in turn. He reaches for their hands and holds them both.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Chris holds onto his hand through it all, providing an anchor for him in this moment, making sure Tom knows that this is not a dream or a cruel joke. That he knows after so many years that he is going to be free.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back again with another chapter. I was determined to have it finished today. 
> 
> WARNING: this is the chapter that has the rape scene. So if you want to skip that's fine.

It was rare that Master Sebastian stayed for more than the weekend. But he called in on Sunday night, saying he wasn’t going in on Monday. That meant Tom had more time with his Master. Which was always nice because he got very lonely and very bored during the week.

Tom woke up first that morning, waking up to see his Master’s broad back. His Master was still sound asleep, which meant Tom had time to prepare a little breakfast. He pushed back the bed covers and set his feet on the floor. He grabbed one of Master Sebastian’s buttoned work shirts from the closet that he kept here for those times he decided to stay one more night. He also pulled on a pair of white and blue striped cotton panties. They were mostly hidden by the shirt, but that didn’t mean anything. His legs were still bare.

He left the bedroom quietly and moved into the kitchen to make something special. He decided to make some French toast with bacon. Easy enough and filling. He pulled out the desired ingredients from the fridge: bread, eggs, milk, cinnamon, and some butter. It was easy enough to get the batter ready and soak the bread for the heated skillet. He was already making the bacon by the time Master Sebastian wandered out of the bedroom.

Arms wound their way around his waist, pulling him back firmly against a well-defined chest. There were lips on the back of his neck.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said. “Smells delicious.”

Tom tried to focus on the food before him so that it wouldn’t burn. But Master Sebastian’s hands were roaming his body, seeking out the sensitive parts. Tom gasped as Master Sebastian began to rub himself against his arse.

“Master—”

“Shh. Just pretend I’m not even here.”

Tom kept on eye on the skillet, making sure it wouldn’t burn. But it was getting increasingly difficult the more Master Sebastian continued to rub himself against Tom. He spread his legs a bit, arching back into the touch. One of Master’s hands travelled downwards and squeezed Tom’s cock through the thin, cotton panties. Tom jerked forward.

“Careful there.” Master Sebastian chuckled behind him. “Wouldn’t want to burn yourself now.”

Master Sebastian continued to palm him through the panties as he focused on taking the bacon out of the skillet and turn off the element. He braced his hands on the counter top.

“Mmm. Enjoying this are we?”

Tom nodded frantically, thrusting into Master Sebastian’s hand. All too suddenly, Master Sebastian took his hands away and turns Tom around.

“I think this boy deserves a reward,” Master said. He got down on his knees before Tom, unbuttoning the last few buttons on Tom’s shirt so he could pull Tom’s panties down a bit to free his cock. He braced his hands on the counter top as Master Sebastian licked the head of his cock. He gasped as his Master took his cock deep into his throat, sucking and licking.

He kept his hands firmly on the counter top so that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and become a little more commanding. He tried to stop himself from thrusting forward, trying to remain still as his Master worked his cock with his mouth.

Just as Tom was about to reach that peak, Master Sebastian pulled away and stood up.

“Time to eat, I think,” he said. “Breakfast is getting cold.”

Tom whimpered, pressing close to Master Sebastian as he stroked his cock languidly. “Master, please—”

“Not now, boy. Wouldn’t want all this nice food you’ve prepared to go to waste. We’ll eat first.” He pulled up the panties to hold Tom’s hard cock against his belly and ran his hands down his sides when he was done.

After breakfast, Master Sebastian pulled Tom into the shower. Tom couldn’t contain his moans as he was fucked against the tiles of the shower, finally receiving his long awaited climax.

Tom loved it when Master Sebastian stayed for another day.

* * *

On Fridays Tom became a little more daring in his greetings. What he liked to do was show Master Sebastian how much he appreciated him for all the things he did for Tom. Usually he didn’t wear much. Master Sebastian always left one of his shirts behind because he knew how much Tom liked wearing them. That and the usual pair of panties that he knew Master Sebastian liked seeing him in.

As soon as the door to the apartment closed, Tom would force himself on Master Sebastian, claiming his lips in a forceful kiss that left them both breathless.

“Welcome home, Master,” he said, eyelashes fluttering.

“That’s some welcome.” Master grinned and pulled Tom close for another breathtaking kiss. His hands went to squeeze Tom’s arse playfully.

The rest of the afternoon folded out as it usually did. They settled onto the couch and enjoyed their intimacy. It was nothing more than brief make out sessions and somewhat heavy petting. Master Sebastian didn’t want to get into anything more since he said he something very special planned for tonight.

Tom later dressed into something a little more decent. They made dinner together, which was more distracting than it should’ve been. Afterwards Master said that Tom should put on something nice, something preferably with long sleeves. So Tom came out dressed in a dark blue buttoned shirt and black jeans.

“Ready?” Master Sebastian asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

As they headed out of the building and to Master Sebastian’s car, Tom wondered where they could be heading. It was too early to be heading out to the club. It wasn’t even eight yet. And he wouldn’t specifically as for Tom to wear a long sleeved shirt, which was actually quite an odd request. But Tom trusted that wherever they were going, it was going to be a nice night out.

They went to the nearest cinemas. Master Sebastian paid for their tickets and led them into the theater. It was like a date almost. Like they were equals. Now Tom understood why he had to wear the long sleeved shirt. It was to hide the cuff so no one would stare and point at a free man engaging in a relationship with a slave. Since they were hiding their relationship, it was easier for them to hold hands in the darkened theater. Two men holding hands would probably raise fewer eyebrows than a free man and a slave.

After the movie they went straight home. From there they fell into bed, stripping each other of their clothes to seek skin on skin contact. Tom keened under the attention, letting himself become loose and pliant under the careful ministrations of his Master’s hands.

When they were spent, they lay on the bed, staring at each other as their eyes threatened to close. Then Master Sebastian pulled Tom to his chest, wrapping him up securely his arms. They kissed but said nothing to each other. Nothing really needed to be said. The night was perfect.

* * *

Over the months, nothing really changed. Tom enjoyed his time with Master Sebastian. He didn’t really know what to call the burgeoning feelings growing between them. It could be considered love, but Tom was reluctant to call it that just yet. But it was also close enough to love that it didn’t make Tom feel uncomfortable thinking about it in that way.

They still frequented the club, still went out on ‘date nights.’ Tom had very much settled into his new life and role. He very much liked it how his life was easy and relaxing. He didn’t have to worry or be in constant fear of not doing something properly. He felt he could be open with Master Sebastian, showing himself in ways that he couldn’t before with any previous owners. Except maybe with Ken. Ken had still treated him as equal, but that was year ago now.

Because Tom felt so close and intimate with Master Sebastian, he felt much more comfortable with flirting and the touches while in the club. It just showed the others there how much Tom was appreciated. And how inaccessible he was.

Other than those few months shared with Zach and his Mistress Kate, Master Sebastian did not let anyone touch Tom. Tom was strictly off limits to the other owners in the club. And everyone knew it. But this one guy just didn’t get it. He was persistent. His name was Tony.

To Tom, it seemed like it was only a matter of time until it happened. Tony had been watching him since the first time he set foot in the club.

But Master Sebastian was firm. He didn’t want anyone touching Tom. So Tony eventually left, and Master Sebastian threw a possessive arm around Tom’s waist.

With Master Sebastian, Tom was never worried.

* * *

On another occasion, Tom was returning to his Master’s side with his Master’s ordered drink. He saw Tony and Master Sebastian talking to each other. Tom slowed his pace, waiting for Tony to walk away before he went back to his Master’s side. Whatever Tony was saying, Master Sebastian obviously didn’t agree with. Master Sebastian’s face was impassive, tight lipped. Whatever Tony was saying was obviously bothering him.

Finally, Tony left, and Tom could resume his position. He handed the drink to his Master and sat down beside him. He wanted to ask what Tony and he were talking about but knew it wasn’t his place to do so. So he left the matter alone and didn’t say anything about it.

Whatever mood Tony had put Maser Sebastian in followed them home. The sex was a bit rougher that night when Tom was put on his hands and knees. But he took it all, never complaining because this was sometimes how Master Sebastian worked out his frustration: the harder thrusts and the bruising grip. But Tom took all that his Master gave him without a word, without a sound. Of course Master Sebastian always made sure to look over Tom just in case he was too harsh. But Tom always said he was fine.

He never pressed the issue concerning Tony’s behaviour.

* * *

Master Sebastian received a phone call one night and excused himself to take it in privacy. Tom was perched on the armrest of the seat he was sitting in and obeyed to stay in his position until he returned. Tom shifted around on the seat, keeping his eyes downcast. He hoped that Master Sebastian wouldn’t be gone for too long. A lone slave was never a good thing. Some people preyed on those as if they were free for the taking. But Tom was ordered to stay put, so he remained seated.

It was only a moment, but that’s all it took.

There was a heavy hand planted on his shoulder. Tom turned to see who it was.

“And what is a little bird like you doing free?” Tony asked.

Tom was hauled off his seat and pushed firmly against the wall with one of those large hands covering his mouth.  “Sebastian should’ve clipped your wings, little bird. Or at least kept you in a cage.”

Tom didn’t put up much of a struggle. He couldn’t. Tony was much bigger and stronger than him. It was hardly a fair fight the way he was dragged and pushed into the nearest bathroom. Tony locked the door once he confirmed it was empty. Then he turned his attention on Tom. “Seems we’ll have to be quick, little bird. Sebastian should not have ignored me.”

Tom backed up until he hit the sinks as Tony approached. Tom was stunned. He felt like he couldn’t move because all of the sudden _this was happening_. Master Sebastian wasn’t here to save him. He was all on his own. And he had no idea what to do.

His mind was completely blank, the terror overwhelming any rational thought, as Tony told him to lower his trousers. His hands were shaking. He could barely hold take off his belt in order for him to lower his trousers.

Tony laughed when he caught sight of the bright red panties Tom was wearing. “What else has your Master made you do I wonder?”

The panties were ripped off of him. They didn’t have time to waste. Master Sebastian could return at any moment and see that Tom wasn’t there. There was no lube, no condom, barely any means of preparation except for a painful and quick stretch. Tony’s fingers were thick, but it was rough and unwanted. Nothing could prepare him for the pain ahead.

He was set up, bent over the sinks with his face pressed into hard surface of the counter top. The hand on his neck departed briefly when Tony parted his cheeks and guided the tip of his cock into Tom’s barely prepared hole.

The head was forced in, and Tom groaned. Settling his hands on Tom’s hips, Tony pushed forward until Tom’s ass was flush with his groin.

“Tight as a virgin, little bird. Ah, you feel so good around my cock. Perhaps I should buy you from Sebastian and take you home tonight. Make you my own little whore.”

He pulled back until just the tip was inside and then thrust forward again. Tom felt a scream catch in his throat. The pain was intense. He could feel the massive cock tearing him apart, the little stretching doing nothing to ease the way. One of Tony’s hands covered his mouth as he continued to thrust in and out. The other gripped tightly onto his hip, sure to leave bruises behind.

Tom closed his eyes, feeling the tears well up at the pain as he was ground into the counter top. His hip bones grinded against the sharp edge of the counter with each snap of Tony’s hips. He would be screaming, he thought, if he could. But they were easily smothered by Tony’s massive hand, which felt clammy and rough, fingers digging into his cheeks and chin.

It seemed to go on forever, but as soon as Tony’s thrusting went faster and harsher, Tom knew he was nearing the end (thank God!). Tom whimpered when Tony spilled inside of him. The bastard hadn’t even used a condom.

Tony groaned his relief. “So tight, little bird. No wonder Sebastian likes you so much. You make a good fuck.” He pulled out and began to clean himself.

Tom didn’t know if he could stand up straight until Tony gripped the back of his shirt and pulled him up.

“Get dressed, little bird. It’s time to return to your Master.”

With a little help from Tony, Tom managed to get his trousers on. He was lead out of the bathroom on unsteady feet. Tony wiped the tracks of tears off his cheeks as he was taken back to where Sebastian’s seat was, still unoccupied.

“I’ll see you around, little bird,” Tony whispered hotly into his ear as he disappeared into the crowd as if the entire situation had never happened.

Tom sat on the chair’s armrest, wincing and gasping in displeasure as the pain shot up his spine. He sniffled, wiping off the last of the tears, and managed to find a comfortable position that was tolerable. Master Sebastian eventually returned and sat back down again with his circle of friends.

“Sorry,” he said quietly to Tom. “Didn’t expect it to take so long.” He placed an arm around Tom’s waist and squeezed. Tom was glad for the dim lighting of the club, otherwise he would’ve seen Tom’s pain written all over his face.

They left the club at two in the morning. Tom forced himself to walk through the pain as they made their way to Master Sebastian’s car. He could feel Tony’s come dripping and drying on his thighs. He felt disgusting.

When they were in the elevator of their own apartment, Master Sebastian caged Tom into a corner and kissed him. Tom knew he probably wanted to have sex before going to bed. And he just didn’t know if he could do it, if he could force himself through it. But he would have to. Master’s orders.

When they were in the bedroom, undressing each other, Master Sebastian saw the marks on his hips and frowned. Tom froze.

“Tom, what happened to you?” Master Sebastian looked at him with a puzzled gaze.

Tom couldn’t look at him for long. He felt like he betrayed his Master. “I’m sorry, Master. I am.”

“Take off your clothes, Tom.”

He couldn’t help but sob as he shimmied his way out of his trousers. Surely the lack of panties was a clue. What would his Master think of him now? What would he do knowing that someone else had touched what was his? Would he beat Tom? Force Tom onto the bed and make him remember that Master Sebastian’s cock was the only one allowed to breach him? Or would he kick him outside onto the street? Leave him homeless and wandering and vulnerable for the next man looking for a good fuck?

But Master Sebastian did none of these. He stepped closer and took Tom gently by the elbows, looking at the dried blood and come that had trickled down his thighs and been smeared around by his clothes.

“Oh, Tom,” he said softly, pulling him closer to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “It’s all right. You’re safe here now. Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed, yeah?”

Tom nodded and sniffled. He was led into the bathroom, allowing himself to limp the rest of the way since he no longer had to put up an act. Master Sebastian drew him a bath and got him to sit down in the water. Tom spread his legs as much as he could in the small confines as Master Sebastian dipped a wash cloth in the water and gently wiped away the come and blood, minding the way Tom winced and hissed.

“So what really happened?” he asked. “You can tell me, Tom. I won’t get angry with you. I _promise_ you.”

Tom looked up at Master Sebastian, bringing his knees up to his chest so that he could reach down further.  “When you left, I waited by your seat. But then a man came up. He . . . he pulled me aside, took me into one of the bathrooms there, and locked the door. I-I-I didn’t want to, but-but he forced me, and I couldn’t get away from him. Please don’t be angry with me, Master. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t let me go.”

“Shhh. It’s all right now, Tom. I don’t blame you for anything. It wasn’t your fault. Do you know who it was, though?”

Tom nodded. “It was Tony.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master Sebastian growled and drained the tub, helping Tom stand up and step out of the tub. He was dried carefully and taken back into the bedroom.

“Lie down on your stomach,” Master Sebastian said. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Tom did as he was told, pulling back the blankets on the bed so that he could lie down on top of them. Master Sebastian returned with pot of soothing cream—probably some variation of antiseptic—and parted Tom’s thighs.

“It’s going to be a little cold,” he said. “Sorry.”

The cream was indeed cold, but it brought relief soon after. Tom sighed and closed his eyes. Master Sebastian made sure he was well tended before putting the cream away and undressing himself and turning off the lights. He lay down beside Tom and pulled the blankets over the both of them.

“I think it’s been a busy enough day today,” Master Sebastian said. “Goodnight, Tom.”

“Goodnight, Master.”

* * *

They slept late into the next morning. The pain in Tom’s lower back persisted, and he simply lay there until Master Sebastian brought him something for the pain.

“I’ve set up the couch in the living room,” Master said. “We can lie out there for today instead of this stuff room, eh? Feel up to it?”

Tom nodded and accepted his help to get out of the bed. He winced at the ever present pain in his lower back. He followed Master Sebastian into the living room, quite aware that he was naked, but they never received any guests here so it didn’t bother him all that much.

The pullout couch was set up with a lot of pillows set up along the back. The TV was on, and the coffee table was set at one side of the couch with plates of food and a steaming cup of coffee. Tom went to the couch and lay down on his front. Master Sebastian sat down next to him and helped him sit up a little with a pillow behind his back. He pulled the blankets over Tom’s legs and up to his waist, brushing his hands through Tom’s hair and kissing him on the cheek.

“Is that good?” he asked. “Need anything else?”

Tom shook his head and leaned against his Master’s side. “I’m fine, Master.”

“Hungry?”

Tom nodded.

“Well, I’ve got a few choices here for you. Got some fruit here. Yogurt. Uh, some cracker things. I can make you a sandwich if you want.”

“Fruit sounds good.”

“Okay.”

Master Sebastian got the plate that was filled with an assortment of fruit. Sliced apple, a cluster of grapes, and ripe strawberries. Tom picked up the apple slices, eating them slowly, not feeling particularly hungry. He looked at the TV but didn’t really watch. He plucked off a few grapes, but couldn’t stomach any more than that, so he set aside the plate and slunk down upon the pillows and underneath the blankets. Master Sebastian wrapped his arm around him.

Tom closed his eyes and felt the overwhelming urge to cry bubble up in his chest. He didn’t know whether it was because he’d been raped or that he thought Master Sebastian was disgusted in him or if it was something else entirely. But he just did not feel right in that moment and sought out the close contact of his Master at his side. He snuggled into his side and tried to convince himself that everything was going to be okay. That all this unease was just in his head.

He smothered all those feelings of unease and anxiety, pushed down everything that terrified him and brought forth the feelings that made him smile and feel warm. Master Sebastian was here to protect him how, help him heal.

Tom didn’t know if Maser Sebastian loved him or not. But Tom did know that he could trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see (hopefully) Tom could be experiencing a little bit of Stockholm Syndrome. He's not at all right in the head. You could even say that this relationship he has with Sebastian is even a bit abusive. But I will get into more of that when we return to Tom. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	31. Chapter Thirty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House hunting and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. This was a doozy of a chapter. Please enjoy.

House hunting is not all that glamorous. It’s tedious and sometimes seems pointless. Sometimes a house seems nice on the outside, but then is a disaster on the inside. Chris and Elsa wouldn’t mind having to fix a few things here and there, but to have to gut an entire house to get it up to code and safe for India and the new babies would be a lot of work. So any fixer-upper is a no.

Sometimes they take Tom with them if they decide to make it a family trip. He’ll usually be in the back, holding India while Chris and Elsa get shown around the house by the owners or the realtors that they deal with. Other times he stays at home like usual and sets about cleaning the house and making it presentable for potential buyers. He definitely makes it easier for them to do all the other various jobs involved in selling and buying a house. The house has always been clean but it’s never been _this_ clean.

Included with searching for a house also comes the other tedious task of selling the house. Their realtor is Jaimie Alexander, a very nice woman who definitely knows what she’s doing when it comes to the housing market. So Chris and Elsa are in good hands.

She meets them at their house on a Saturday morning to go over all the details. Chris digs out all the important files from the office that are about the house in particular: how old the roof is, when any major appliances (the water heater, the furnace) were replaced, and so on. Elsa is helping Tom clean up the kitchen and the main floor, although there isn’t much to do. The house is always quite clean and orderly these days. Tom keeps it very clean, especially now that they are selling.

The coffee is made, and the mugs are pulled down. Jaimie arrives just after eleven o’clock. Chris and Elsa greet her at the door and welcome her inside while Tom remains in the living room with India, keeping her entertained.

“Hello!” Jaimie says warmly, extending her hand to shake both Chris’s and Elsa’s. “It’s very nice to meet the both of you.”

“Yes, it is,” Chris says. “Well, welcome to our home. Can we get you anything? Coffee?”

“Coffee sounds lovely.”

They lead her into their house and exchange pleasantries while the coffee is brought out. India babbles on about something to Tom in the living room which makes him giggle softly. Chris, Elsa, and Jaimie sit down at the kitchen table with their steaming cups of coffee, sweetened by cream or sugar. Now that they’ve familiarized themselves with each other, it’s time to get down to business.

They go over the basics, hearing what the market is like. They go over prices: what they paid for the house, what they put into the house in means of renovations, and what the house is worth now. They show her around the house and point out the few flaws that are still present and Chris hasn’t gotten around to fixing: one of the lights in the bathroom, some minor holes in the walls that need to be plastered and painted. All small jobs that he promises to fix within the week.

They sit back down at the table to finish up their deal, discussing a few more small things before Jaimie brings an item to their attention.

“One last question,” she says. “The man in the living room. He is a slave, correct?”

“Yes,” Chris says.

“And will he be part of the sale or not?”

“What do you mean by that?” Elsa asks.

It’s an odd question, and Chris didn’t think that this was a standard question.

“Some homeowners bundle their slaves with the house if they decide to move. Sometimes they’re downsizing to a smaller house and no longer need a slave. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep the slave in a familiar environment. So they can continue their work.”

Chris looks to Elsa, and it’s clear that their answer is the same.

“Um, no,” Chris says. “He’ll be coming with us.”

“Okay then. I believe that is all we have to discuss for now.” Jaimie finishes off writing a few things and files everything away. “It was a pleasure meeting you both. I’ll let you know how everything is going as well as when I shall be showing potential buyers the house. Please ensure that all those minor issues we discussed are fixed in time.”

“Will do,” Chris says.

“It was a pleasure meeting with you,” Elsa says as they all stand from the table. They say their goodbyes and shake hands and see Jaimie off through the door and back to her car.

After closing the door, Elsa falls against Chris. He holds her close and presses his cheek to the top of her head.

“Selling a house is hard work,” he says.

Elsa laughs. “You’re not even selling it.”

He hushes her by kissing her quickly, stealing her breath and her words by kissing down to her neck. He only grazes her neck gently because he knows how ticklish she can get from the light touches. And when she starts to squirm and giggle, Chris only holds her tighter as she tries to get away.

“Chris, don’t!” She slaps him only lightly on the arm, saying more seriously, “Stop.” She sets a finger on his lips, the rest of her fingers coming to cup his chin.

“I love you,” he says quietly, smiling a little as she strokes his chin, pulling him down to her level for a kiss.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

House hunting continues every once in a while. Sometimes they look at three houses in a week while the next they might not even look at one. They’re still somewhat undecided as to what they want. They pick up a few ideas as to what they like and don’t like. When they look at a house that’s settled in one of the older neighbourhoods, Chris gets the feeling that this might be it.

They step through the doorway and are led through the house by the realtor. On the left side of the main floor is the living room and a home office. On the right side is the dining room and the kitchen, which leads out onto the back patio. The kitchen is much larger than the one they have now and also has an island. Much more space for a growing family.

Upstairs there are four bedrooms. One is the master with an ensuite bathroom. There’s another less private bathroom up there as well. One of the bedrooms would be a guestroom until the twins got older and became sick of each other, then they would just switch things around a bit.

And finally they are led to the basement. The basement can be set up as a playroom for the kids. There’s a separate room that houses the water heater, the furnace, the washing machine, and the dryer. As an added surprise, the realtor explains the changes.

“Now originally this basement was much larger,” she explains. “But the owners wanted a room for their hobbies.” She shows them to a door and opens it. The room is empty, as are all the rooms here, so they can’t tell what they wanted to use the room for. Perhaps it was for sewing or something. But all Chris can see is a perfect space for Tom where he can have his privacy away from the family.

The last step on their tour is the backyard. The patio is, in fact, partially covered by a roof. The other half is left open to the elements, which is actually quite nice. The backyard is large and fenced in all around. There’s a row of gardens lining the perimeter of the fence. The plants all carefully maintained and surrounded by a bed of mulch.

Chris swears that this is the house. This is their house.

The realtor takes them into the kitchen and turns around to face them with a smile. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful house,” Elsa says. “It has everything we’re looking for I think.” She looks up at Chris, and he nods in agreement.

“It’s perfect.”

They decide to take a look at the finer details of the sale and see what the asking price is for. If it’s out of their range, then they’ll leave. It’s that simple.

“All right,” the realtor says. “This is what the owners are asking for, but the price is negotiable.”

Chris takes a look at the number and then really focuses on it longer than is needed. The price is, remarkably, lower than he expected for a house like this.

“I’ll leave you two a moment so that you can discuss.” She leaves the kitchen.

Chris turns to Elsa. “I think we should take it. It has everything we need and more than enough space.”

Elsa is looking around the kitchen with a smile on her face. “It is a very nice house. And the location is great, too.”

Along the tour they asked questions about the surrounding neighbourhood. It’s full of other younger families or older couples with no children at home. It’s quiet and nice with a park only a few blocks away. It’s only a twenty minute drive to where Chris works and fifteen minutes for Elsa. It is the ideal house. They just have to decide if they want to put a bid on it.

The realtor comes back in, and they tell her that they want the house. They discuss a price, and she promises to get back to them within a few days.

They leave the house, feeling content and proud.

* * *

The moving process, at first, is a bit slow. Tom keeps the house clean and organized while the realtor Jaimie shows potential buyers the house. He strategically begins to start packing things that won’t be needed in the immediate future: house decorations and other small things around the house. He packs them into boxes and sets the boxes inside the office to be eventually taken to the new house.

After a bit of negotiating, the deal with the house went through. To make the eventual big move go a bit faster, Chris often takes the opportunity to take some packed boxes from the small house to the big house. The house is so large without furniture. Large and empty. Chris can’t help but smile at the opportunities.

After the sale of their house goes through, they have a final move out date picked out on the calendar. Chris ropes in the help of his brother Luke because he has a truck and trailer they can use to move the larger pieces of furniture. Plus it’s a good excuse to see Luke and invite his family over to help and maybe have dinner. Probably something like pizza because that is easy to obtain. Just one phone call.

* * *

Early on a Saturday morning, the Hemsworths and Tom get up to get everything ready for the big move. Luke is driving up alone while his wife and young kids will come up later in the afternoon to help Elsa start putting things away. Chris and Luke will be doing the heavy lifting while Tom will be doing the odd jobs. Carrying boxes to the cars and watching over India when he needs to.

As they strip the beds and toss down the pillows, Tom helps Chris heave the mattresses and box frames down the stairs and into the kitchen and living room where everything will be held until Luke arrive.

“Chris,” Tom says as they ascend the stairs once more. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Luke. He’s your brother, right?”

Chris nods. They bend down to start dismantling the bedframe. Tom holds the screw and bolts while Chris sets to work getting them loose.

“What does he think about people like . . . well, like me?” he asks. “You’ve never had any of your family here except for today, not even during the holidays. I’m just wondering if they disapprove of people like me.”

Chris stops what he’s doing and looks at Tom. Tom is skittish around people and for good reason. He’s been abuse. Of course he would be worried about Luke’s arrival. It only makes sense.

He lays a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Since Liam was enslaved, my family has avoided it entirely. We just don’t feel comfortable knowing that Liam is one of those people like you. Luke might be uncomfortable about you, but he’s not going to be outright mean to you. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” He smiles, and Tom smiles back.

* * *

Luke arrives just before nine, parking the truck and trailer onto the street before their house. Chris and Elsa welcome him inside with bright smiles and warm hugs. They haven’t seen him since the Hemsworth family reunion at last Christmas several months ago, so there’s a lot to catch up on. They take a few minutes to catch up, asking all the questions they need to. How’s the family. How’s the job. How’s everything else. Fine, he says. All fine.

Then Tom steps into the kitchen, bent over as he holds India’s tiny hands in his. She’s walking now, but unsteadily on her chubby legs.

Luke notices Tom, notices his position, but doesn’t say anything about it obviously to be polite. Instead, he crouches down on India’s level to receive her on wobbly legs.

“Hey, India!” He picks her up. “Remember Uncle Luke? You’re getting big.” India giggles and sets her hands on his cheeks. “So, you guys ready to get out of this place?”

“You have no idea,” Elsa says and takes India from his hands.

They move the beds first, stacking the mattresses and box springs on top of each other. They take a few other things to fill up the rest of the trailer while Tom moves some boxes onto the flatbed of the truck. Because Elsa’s pregnant, she won’t be doing any heavy lifting. She’ll be staying behind at the house with India as the three men drive back and forth to bring over everything that they need.

Tom sits in the back seat, quiet and still. He looks out the window for most of the ride. This’ll be his first time in the new house. Chris is excited to show Tom his new room.

They don’t say anything to each other during the ride. Chris assumes Luke wants to ask about Tom, but he wouldn’t do it in front of him. He expects a lot of questions after they’ve finished moving.

They get into the new house and begin carrying things into their proper home. Tom carries boxes into the house, setting them in the kitchen or in the bedrooms as Chris directs him. He and Luke carry one of the mattresses upstairs to the master bedroom. The other they bring downstairs.

“Why down here?” Luke asks. “There are three other bedrooms upstairs.”

“This is where Tom will be staying,” Chris replies. “Thought it’d be better that he have some space to himself.” They set the mattress against the wall and go up to retrieve the bedspring.

They continue to unload the trailer and head back when it’s empty. Next is the heavier furniture: dressers, couches, tables, and other things. After a few trips, the house is empty and they’re ready to settle into their new home. They’ll be handing over the keys to Jaimie on Monday, so it’s best to keep everything locked up until then.

Luke’s family arrives around four in the afternoon, after they’ve gotten everything into the house. Pizza is being ordered in because it’s not like they can make food in their kitchen right now. It’s nice being able to see Sam, Luke’s wife, and their three girls again. They don’t get together nearly as often as they should. Chris finds that he likes it this way. Even with their new house in disarray, it’s nice to have it fuller with people and the chatter of voices.

As they wait for the pizza to arrive, Chris and Luke take some time to rest on the steps of the patio. Chris takes in the new backyard, pleased that it’s bigger and fenced in. It’s perfect for the kids. Luke is sitting quietly beside him. They haven’t talked much in recent times. Something isn’t right between the two of them, and Chris doesn’t really know what happened. When did they start drifting from each other? When they were younger, they were the closest brothers. The three of them. Luke, Chris, and Liam. Sure, they were awful to each other as siblings usually are, but they all supported each other.

Chris hears the deck door behind him slide open. He looks over his shoulder to see who it is. It’s Tom. He comes bearing two glasses of water.

“I thought you two might like a drink,” he says, walking a little cautiously towards them. Tom’s not all that big on strangers. Perhaps he’s also picked up on Luke’s wariness and general unease. He hands them their glasses and skitters back into the house.

“So,” Luke says. “Tom. He’s your . . .”

“Slave,” Chris says. “Yeah.”

“How did that happen?”

“Remember when I was in that car crash?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, while I was at home, my insurance company sent me a slave to aid me around the house I guess while they handled my claim. We were supposed to give him back after six weeks, but we decided to keep him.”

Luke nods and picks up his glass to take a sip. He bounces his leg a little, fidgeting and slowly turning the glass in his hands.

Chris sighs. “Spit it out.”

“Spit what out?”

Chris gestures with his hands. “What you’re thinking about him. I want to know.”

Luke shifts uncomfortably. “What does he do for you? Like, how can you even keep him in the house and not get . . . weirded out?”

Before Liam’s drastic change in lifestyle, slavery to the Hemsworth brothers was just another one of those things they grew up with and learned to accept. It was a background presence that they never really paid attention to until they got the phone call from their mother about the fateful news. Now with Liam gone, slavery stood out much more clearly, like a thorn. The submissive positions of slaves, how they were ignored, how they just were. It was hard to imagine that Liam was in such a position now.

Chris’s view on slavery changed when Liam was taken. He didn’t like it, felt wary of it. All the worst scenarios ran through his head because he simply didn’t know what happened to people after they were enslaved. He didn’t want to ever have a slave because of Liam. It would just be too much to handle, too close to home, but then Tom arrived and everything changed.

“I was at first,” he says. “But I couldn’t get rid of him. He just sort of grew on us, I guess.”

“What does he do then?” Luke asks.

“Lots of stuff.” Chris shrugs. “He helps us take care of India and look after the house. That’s about it.”

“And how does he fit in here? Is he doing well?”

“He’s getting better. He’s not as afraid or shy anymore.”

“So you’ve had him for how long?”

“Over a year,” Chris says. “I never said anything because I didn’t want you thinking poorly of me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know, but I know you. You would still see me differently if you knew I went out and got myself a slave on purpose.”

Luke sighs. They both go quiet for a few minutes until Chris just has to tell Luke.

“Tom wasn’t like this when he first arrived,” he says. “At first he was really scared of me and Elsa. He was really hurt by a lot of people over the years. All the while I kept seeing Liam, thinking about him, and how he was doing. Seeing Tom all scarred and terrified made me wonder how Liam was doing. If he was all right, if he was living in a safe place.

“I wasn’t planning on keeping Tom, not a first. But, as I said, he grew on me—on us, me and Elsa. I couldn’t let him go, knowing that he was just so hurt and so alone. So we became his owners. We gave him a place where he can feel safe again. And soon he began to trust us, to open up more and become like himself.”

“What if you have to sell him?” Luke asks. “I don’t think he’d do well if he had to go back now after you’ve been so kind to him.”

“Well, that’s the thing. He’s going to be freed in a few months. I imagine he’ll be staying with us even after then. He’s from the UK originally. He doesn’t have any family here, and he fits in with us well.”

“So he’ll become what then? Some sort of freeloader?”

“Well, I can’t just kick him out of the house. He’ll have nowhere to go.” That isn’t the only reason, but Chris doesn’t want to tell Luke about his burgeoning crush on Tom. That would probably just weird him out a bit too much.

“If it were Liam,” he begins.

“I know,” Luke says. “I’d keep him, too.”

And that’s the last they speak of Tom. Nothing more needs to be said.

“I miss him,” Chris says. “I really do miss him.”

Luke reaches out and puts his arm over Chris’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly even though Chris is the bigger of the two of them. “I know,” he says. “I do, too.”

* * *

Luke and his family head out around seven. They have to get the girls to bed. Chris and Elsa see them off and thank them for their help. They have beds to sleep on and a fridge full of food for tomorrow. All they have to do now is get everything organized and settled. It’ll take a few days, but soon they’ll be settled in their new house.

Elsa takes India up to bed that night, wanting to make sure that she gets to sleep all right in the new house. Chris heads on downstairs to see how Tom is doing. The door to his room is open, but he knocks just to make sure his presence is known.

“Chris,” he says. “Come in.”

Chris steps into the room. Tom doesn’t have much stuff, so there aren’t many boxes in his room. He’s just putting his clothes away and making his bed again.

“Hey,” he says. “How do you like the new room?”

“I love it,” he replies with a wide smile. “I wanted to thank you for giving me this. You’ve done so much for me. It’s been wonderful. Truly.”

“It’s no problem. Elsa and I had already figured that if you were going to stay with us that you would need a bigger room. But if you want to sleep upstairs with us in one of the other rooms, just let us know and we’ll move you around a bit.”

Tom shakes his head. “No. This is fine. I like it down here. Thank you.” He sits down on his bed and beckons Chris to sit beside him.

“It’s a little empty down here,” Chris notices. “Is there anything that you really want, Tom, to fill this place up a bit?”

Tom shakes his head. “Not really. I’m fine for now.”

“Just making sure. I want you to be comfortable here.”

Tom smiles. “I know you do. I want to thank you for caring for me so much. I know I haven’t made it all that easy for you sometimes, but you stayed there for me. Something that hasn’t happened to me in a long time. So, thank you, Chris. Thank you so much for all that you have done for me.”

Tom has been leaning forward a bit, getting closer to Chris, but he blushes and pulls back. Embarrassed. But Chris leans in, keeping an eye on Tom’s reactions just to make sure that this isn’t unwanted, that is isn’t violating some sort of code between them. But Tom remains still, holding his breath as Chris leans in forward to press a simple, close lipped kiss on his lips. Chris doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, so he pulls back.

“Was it okay?” he asks, voice low. “Are you—”

Tom laughs softly. “I’m fine, Chris. Truly.” He returns the kiss with a soft one of his own.

Chris may or may not fully comprehend the relationship they have between them, but it’s nice to know that it’s something natural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh! Better go update those tags now ;)


	32. Chapter Thirty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's world slowly crumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo. Back with another chapter. A longer one this time. Hopefully all your questions about Sebastian will be answered in this chapter and you'll get to see his true colours. 
> 
> WARNING: another rape in this chapter, nothing too descriptive and the last one in this story. Just so you're prepared.

Master Sebastian stressed the point of not doing anything strenuous this week.

“Just take care of yourself,” he said. “I’ll be back on Friday.”

“Yes, Master.”

He waited by the door for a while before saying goodbye and closing the door behind him.

Tom lay on the couch, too tired to get up to do anything. They’d spent a lazy day on the sofa bed. Master Sebastian had cleaned up the food and left out a glass of water for Tom, but they’d left the couch out so if Tom didn’t want to walk to the bedroom he wouldn’t have to.

There was some Tylenol set out for him when the pain became unbearable. All he had to do was stand up and turn off the lights so he could sleep, which was probably a good idea right now. He kicked aside the blankets and stood slowly to turn off the light. He stumbled back to bed and turned down the volume of the TV. He didn’t feel like turning it off and sending the place back into silence. He couldn’t stand the silence. It made him feel painstakingly lonely. So he kept the volume on low and slept with the TV on.

He woke up several times during the night, sweating and panicked. He wished he had a way of calling his Master. Even hearing his voice would calm him. He wouldn’t be seeing him until Friday. That was five days away. He would go mad. He really would.

He tried to occupy his time by doing what he did best: cleaning. But the pain in his lower back persisted and rendered him unable to bend over to pick things up from the floor or scrub the bathtub. He could barely force himself to eat. He had little to no appetite and sometimes went without food for a day. He slept most of the days. Other times he could not, for he could still feel Tony’s hands on him, his breath on the back of his neck, his brutal thrusts. He felt tainted, unclean. He needed to take another shower.

The days passed by in no particular pattern. Tom waited patiently for Master Sebastian’s return. He didn’t sleep in his own bed. He couldn’t force himself to. He needed the voices of the TV to calm him, needed it to be on. So he slept on the pull out couch for the entirety of the week.

On Friday he made an effort to make himself and the apartment presentable. That meant he shuffled about on weary legs to get to the kitchen and wash a few dishes and wipe down the counters. Afterwards he took a long, hot shower, rubbing scented body wash over his skin and massaging shampoo into his hair. After he was dry, he went into the bedroom to find some clothing to wear. As usual it was a pair of panties and one of Master Sebastian’s shirts.

He went back to the pullout couch and lay down. It would be another few hours until Master Sebastian arrived. Might as well rest up a bit.

Six o’clock rolled around slowly. Tom turned on his side to face the door and waited. Master Sebastian should arrive soon.

The hours ticked by. Seven. Eight. Nine. Master Sebastian did not arrive. At ten Tom began to drift off, but woke for every sound that came from beyond the door. He remained vigilant even though he felt nauseous from the worry.

Distantly, a while later, he heard keys in the door, though he was much too tired to wake himself up fully. The couch/bed sagged with added weight. Tom woke fully when a hand stroked his arm.

“It’s only me,” Master Sebastian said, calming Tom significantly with only the slightest touch and a few words.

“Master,” Tom whispered, shifting closer to his Master and rested his head on his thigh. “You came.”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. Got held up at work and then asked out for drinks. I didn’t expect it to take so long.”

“It’s all right, Master. You’re here now.” He rose up on his knees and moved to straddle Master Sebastian. He thrust down while placing either hand on the sides of Master Sebastian’s face. He kissed him, slow and deep.

Then Master Sebastian made a noise of protest, pulling away and putting his fingers on Tom’s seeking lips. “Not tonight. Feeling a little tired.”

Tom slid off his lap, looking down and holding his hands loosely in his lap.

“Come on. Let’s get to bed.”

Tom was pulled off the couch/bed gently, and with a hand on his lower back was guided into the bedroom. There Master Sebastian stripped him and set him into bed as he went to the bathroom and get ready for the night. Tom listened as he bustled around outside the bedroom: turning off the TV and locking the doors. He turned off the lights outside the room and stepped into the bedroom to undress. Tom welcomed him under the covers, seeking to press close. With his head on his Master’s chest, Tom listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, soothing him into a deep slumber.

* * *

It was a quiet and uneventful Saturday. Master Sebastian was tired and had some work to finish up. Since Tom was still feeling a bit sore, they left the couch yet a bed and lay upon it.

Tom was bored and slightly apprehensive. He wanted to do something with his Master and didn’t understand his sudden aloof behaviour. He wanted the old Master Sebastian, the one who took him out on dates like they were dating, the one who wanted to seem Tom happy and gave him gifts, the one who made love to him. He also missed the sex because that’s what really made him feel useful and wanted.

And loved.

Master Sebastian paused in his work for lunch. He made himself a sandwich and offered to make Tom one, but he declined, choosing something a bit lighter to eat. They sat at the kitchen table to eat. Tom chose some yogurt and ate it straight from the container. He still felt a bit nauseous and didn’t know why. Perhaps he was coming down with something.

The rest of the afternoon was just as quiet as the morning. The tension and heat beneath Tom’s skin that had been slowly building up over the day became simply irritating. He needed Master Sebastian’s touch, his warmth again. Things hadn’t changed since last week’s incident. Had they? Tom had to know. He had to know if there was something he could do to reassure Master Sebastian that he had no notions of rising above his position. Or that he wanted to.

The night drew on, and Master Sebastian stood up and said he was going to take a shower. Tom sat up immediately. “May I join you, Master?” And then added in a soft, pleading tone, “Please?”

Master Sebastian sighed and said, “All right.” He held out his hand, which Tom took, and lead them to bathroom.

Under the warm spray of water, Tom hummed softly and contently as Master Sebastian held him loosely to wash his back. He nuzzled Master’s neck, placing soft kisses here and there every now and then. He dropped his hands down to Master Sebastian’s hips, pulling him closer.

Tom could feel him growing hard and rolled his hips, earning a groan from Master Sebastian. Master Sebastian’s hands dropped to Tom’s arse. His fingers dug into flesh, and Tom gasped, arching and pressing closer.

“Getting a little eager, are we?” Master Sebastian asked and bit lightly on Tom’s ear.

“Please, Master?” he asked, rocking forward.

The water was turned off, and they dried their bodies as quickly as they could. Their skin was still slightly damp as they fell onto the bed, hands roaming, lips seeking. Master Sebastian wrapped a hand around both their cocks.

Master Sebastian seemed content with just making out and heavy petting, but Tom wanted more. He needed to be cleansed from whatever dirt was on him.

Tom straddled Master Sebastian immediately. He rocked back and forth. He tipped his Master’s head back and kissed him on the lips. “Please, Master,” he whispered. “Please.”

Master Sebastian knew what he wanted, what he needed, but he seemed reluctant to give it. “I think we should wait a bit longer,” he said. “Give you more time to heal.”

Tom buried his head in Master Sebastian’s neck. “Please, Master. You can do whatever you want just _please_ give this to me. Please.”

Master Sebastian stroked his damp hair. He didn’t say anything but carefully placed Tom on his back. He ran one hand over Tom’s thigh while he reached for the lube and condoms with the other. Tom spread his legs as Master Sebastian settled between them and uncapped the lube. He was so tender with his movements. It felt so good to be used like this again. Tom closed his eyes and let himself fall into the sensations. There was a slight stinging pain, and Tom knew there must’ve been some tearing still. But he knew he was going to be okay with Master Sebastian. He knew he was safe here.

When he was sufficiently wet and stretched, Master Sebastian reached for the condom. Tom stopped him. “I want to feel you, Master. Please.” He gripped Master Sebastian’s wrist lightly and pleaded softly. They were always protected whenever they had sex, but Tom wanted to feel him, wanted all of him.

Master Sebastian set aside the condom. He lined himself up with Tom and pushed in slowly, watching Tom’s face for any sign of pain. While Tom winced here and there, it was mostly pleasurable. He placed his legs on either side of his Master’s waist and hung his arms around his neck. It was a slow and tender fucking, and Tom soaked in every moment.

He loved the slow thrusts, the drag of skin on skin. He loved how Master Sebastian cradled him and held him like he was the most precious thing in the world. He loved how it felt when Master Sebastian had climaxed: the warmth, the feeling of being stuffed full and used. It felt _so_ good.

When Master Sebastian pulled out, he looked down at Tom with a strange look in his eyes. It was only there for a moment before he bent down and kissed Tom.

After they were cleaned up and settled into bed next to each other, Tom felt like everything was going to be okay. His Master loved him.

* * *

Early Sunday morning, Tom awoke to an empty bed. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The night before was everything he imagined it to be. His Master still loved him enough to continue to be intimate. He wasn’t dirty or disgusting. He was just the same, and that was good.

He reached between his legs and prodded at his hole gently. He was definitely sore down there and didn’t dare breach himself. But it was going to be a pleasant soreness.

He got out of bed and proceeded to find something loose and comfortable to wear. He walked out of the room and headed to the bathroom. He washed up a bit and headed into the kitchen, but stopped before he could be seen.

Master Sebastian was on the phone. It sounded like a stressful conversation.

“You could’ve just asked,” he said. “You didn’t have to go and fucking assault him in the fucking bathroom.”

Tom set his back against the wall, staying hidden.

“I don’t owe you shit, but I’m saying it would’ve been nicer if you just asked.” Master Sebastian was pacing around the room, holding his cellphone close to his ear. “I don’t . . . Well, yeah. I remember that, but I already . . . I see.” Master Sebastian sighed heavily. “If you want him, it’ll be on my terms. I’ll call later to set them up. Bye.”

Tom waited a few seconds before stepping away from the wall and going to Master Sebastian’s side with a smile on his face. “Good morning, Master.” He kissed his Master’s cheek and went to the kitchen to get something to eat.

Master Sebastian came up behind him and pulled him back against his chest. Tom gripped his arms as they wrapped around his waist. Tom had some ideas of what the phone call was about, but he put it out of his mind. He had his Master again, so everything was going to be fine.

* * *

Two weeks later and they were at the club again. Tom was looking forward to going out and having a little fun. Maybe even his Master would give him a sip from his drink. The night was young and full of possibilities.

They went up to the floor with the bedrooms. Tom wondered if Master Sebastian had found him a new play date. He enjoyed what he and Zach had had during the time and was missing the chance of having a friend in this place.

He sat down on the bed and looked up at Master Sebastian. He smiled. “What’s the special occasion, Master?”

Master Sebastian stepped into the room and set his hands on Tom’s shoulders. “Just relax, all right?” He kissed the top of Tom’s head. Tom leaned his head against his Master’s hip. “I love you, boy,” Master Sebastian whispered.

“I love you, too, Master.”

Master Sebastian drew away from him and left the room.

While Tom waited, he removed his boots and socks. He took off his belt as well and wondered if he should remove any more clothing. He didn’t ponder long before someone else entered the dim room and closed the door.

“A pleasure to meet you again, little bird.”

The initial reaction was panic. Tom scrambled back on the bed, but Tony pulled him back by one of his ankles.

“I thought we were past the struggling. No matter.”

Tom tried to get away from Tony, but Tony overpowered him easily. A sharp slap to the face rendered him senseless for only a few moments, allowing Tony to bind his wrists with a belt to keep them out of the way.

The violation was brutal and swift. The thrusts were painful, and there was no pleasure to be found in this. Tom cried out at the stabbing pain of the thrusts and the sharp grip Tony kept on his hips. He knew he would bleed. He knew there would be bruises. He also knew that Master Sebastian had probably set this up. Despite the pain, Tom couldn’t help but think of why this was happening. Was it something he did? Did he anger his Master? Was there something he could do for him? He didn’t know, but was intent on figuring out what he could do.

This time Tony was wearing a condom, so Tom did not feel _as_ disgusted as last time. The larger man pulled out and cleaned himself up. Tom lay boneless on the bed naked from the waist down, hands still bound by his own belt.

“You are a good fuck, little bird,” Tony said. “You might just be able to entertain Sebastian for a few more months yet.”

Tom was left in the room, trying to catch his breath on the bed. He didn’t move, not even to stretch his sore legs. When someone settled down beside him and touched him on the arm, he flinched, and then he looked up.

“M-master,” he said, reaching out with his hands.

“Careful now,” Master Sebastian said, cradling Tom’s hands in his lap. “I don’t want you moving prematurely now.” He loosened the belt and released Tom’s hands, soothing at the red marks that circled his wrists. They would surely bruise.

“Let’s get you home,” Master said. Tom nodded and moved to sit up.

Master Sebastian helped Tom dressed and pulled on his socks and boots. With one hand gripping his arm and other placed on his lower back, Tom was led down the stairs and out of the club.

It was a quiet ride home. Tom stared at his Master, wondering what he was thinking. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet or serious.

“Master,” he said. “Are you—”

“Not now, Tom. We’ll talk about it later.”

Tom shut his mouth and turned his gaze away. He fell asleep before they even made it home.

* * *

Like before, Tom woke feeling sore. There was no one else in the room with him. He got up slowly and shuffled to the bathroom.

Under the light and before the mirror, Tom could finally take stock of his injuries. His wrists were indeed bruised but only lightly. The mark on his cheek was more disturbing. It was dark. It was big. He carefully prodded it with his fingers. It was very tender and sore. He needed to get some ice on it.

He dressed and limped slowly to the kitchen. He took a few ice cubes out of the freezer and wrapped them in a towel. He pressed it to his cheek and proceeded to find something to eat. Master Sebastian was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV with a glazed look. Tom entered the living room and sat down on the other end of the couch: towel with ice in one hand, an apple in the other.

It was a quiet Sunday. They didn’t talk about what happened, and Tom was okay with that. If he didn’t need to know, he didn’t need to know. Let it remain in the past so they could move on. Tom would rather forget the unpleasantness of last night anyway.

Master Sebastian left early that night. He kissed Tom on the cheek before he left but nothing more.

Tom flopped down on the couch. He was tired of being left alone here.

* * *

Around lunchtime on Monday, Tom received a surprise visitor. He heard the locks on the door being turned and looked over to see Master Sebastian coming in. He couldn’t stop the smile if he tried.

Despite the present pain, Tom got up quickly and jumped into Master Sebastian’s arms. “Master!” He breathed deeply and felt the tension in his shoulders bleed away. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He pulled back a little and smiled. Master Sebastian didn’t seem to be sharing his enthusiasm. “Master, what is it?”

“Why don’t you go pack a few of your things, Tom? Like a few pairs of clothing? Nothing of our fun stuff, all right?”

Tom nodded and pulled away. “Are we planning to get away, Master?” he asked, slowly making his way to the bedroom. “Do you have something romantic in mind?”

Master Sebastian smirked a little, but said, “Go pack, Tom.”

His Master was keeping his distance. Tom knew there must’ve been something bothering him, but maybe he was planning a getaway. A week of something else other than this would do them well. The following week they would return refreshed and less haunted.

Tom only took a few pairs of clothes as Master Sebastian had suggested. They hadn’t gone clothes shopping in a while, so maybe Master Sebastian was planning a shopping trip as well.

After he took a few things and zipped up his bag, he went back to the front door where Master Sebastian was waiting. Master Sebastian smiled and hooked an arm around Tom’s waist. “Let’s get going.”

Tom didn’t know where they were going. He asked Master Sebastian where they were going, but Master Sebastian simply said, “You’ll see.”

It wasn’t a long drive. It wasn’t to any hotel or any highway leading out of the city. Instead it was to a slave center. Master Sebastian parked the car and told Tom to get out. Tom picked up his bag and ignored a suspicious feeling in the back of his mind.

Master Sebastian led Tom into the center and to the front desk. The employee sitting behind it turned to them with a smile and asked if she could help them.

“Yes,” Master Sebastian said. “Hi. I’m here to sell my slave.”

“Sell him back to us or sell him to someone else?”

“To you.”

“All right. Let me just find the paperwork you need to fill out, and we’ll call you up.” She handed him a clipboard with a pen, and Master Sebastian began to fill it out right there.

Now Tom had been listening intently and could only come up with one answer: Master Sebastian was selling him, giving him back to the center. He remembered Tony’s words from a few days ago, how he said he _might_ be able to entertain Master Sebastian for a few more months. Was that was this was about? Was Master Sebastian getting tired of him? Before Tony had raped Tom the first time, their relationship had been fine. Was it a possibility that Master Sebastian did see Tom differently? Did he not love him anymore? Was that it?”

Master Sebastian was done signing the form and handed back to the woman on the other side of the desk. She told them to go take a seat and wait until they were called up. Tom dutifully followed his Master to the open chairs and took a seat beside him.

“Master,” he asked softly. “What are we doing here?”

Master Sebastian sighed and turned to face Tom. “It’s better this way, Tom. You’ll be safer here. They can take better care of you than I can right now.”

“You—you’re selling me?”

Master Sebastian nodded, and Tom lost his voice for a moment. He didn’t know how to respond.

A few minutes passed, and Master Sebastian was called up. He stood and Tom followed.

“Master, wait,” he said. Master Sebastian turned to him. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll be good. I _swear._ I’ll do whatever you want. Just _please_ don’t sell me. Please.”

“Tom, you’ve got to stop this.” Master Sebastian reached out and steadied Tom by the shoulders but also prevented him from coming any closer.

“Don’t leave me,” Tom said. “I need you.”

“That’s enough now. We have to get going.”

Tom looked in his Master’s eyes and tried to discern what type of emotion was there. There was none. His Master was cutting all ties from him.

While Tom had been near hysterical before, he was calm now. He had pulled everything inside of him down and locked it all up. He drew back from Master Sebastian and waited for an order.

“I’m sorry,” Master Sebastian said. “But this is the safest option. I didn’t want it to be like this, but Tony was getting really aggressive. I couldn’t keep you any longer.”

It was all he said to Tom, but Tom understood well enough.

They were led into a separate room to finalize the sale. Tom kept his head down and remained quiet. There was a loud buzzing in his hears that prevented him from hearing anything that wasn’t a direct command.

_Master Sebastian doesn’t want me?_

_Master Sebastian doesn’t actually love me?_

_Was it something I did?_

_Was it something I said?_

His inner monologue continued rambling, trying to figure out where things went wrong. He didn’t want to believe that he was being abandoned. And to think he actually thought that they had something special. Master Sebastian had other slaves before him. Tom knew that. He wasn’t special. He was just a new toy, something to have fun with before he broke.

“I believe takes care of all of it,” the employee named Brian said. “If you have any questions, Mr. Cook, let us know.”

“Thank you,” Master Sebastian said. They shook hands, and he was allowed to leave. Tom didn’t look up from where he stood. There were no words or looks exchanged between the two. There wasn’t a need for it.

Master Sebastian left, and Tom was left alone with the employees.

He was taken to a small service room where they pressed a device to his cuff. They were about to start asking some questions when someone else entered the room.

“Who do we have here?” the man asked.

“IC-782,” one of the employees replied. “Just dropped off this afternoon.”

The man looked down at a file in his hands. “We can’t take him. We’re at capacity. He’ll have to be transferred to a different center.”

“Well, then what do we do with him until then?”

“Just sit tight for now until I get this figured out.” The man left, and the employees were left without something to do.

Tom was told to stay put, so he sat down and waited for their return.

While he waited, he decided to do some housekeeping in his head to get himself into a better mental state. He’d been with Master Sebastian for almost three years. In that time he was kept mostly in a small apartment. Going to a new city, a new home was going to be shocking for him. He had to brace himself for the initial shock. He just hoped that his new owner would allow him a little bit of time to adapt. He also couldn’t allow himself to get emotionally involved with anyone. That would only end in disaster like this time. So whatever fragile part remained of him, whatever part was constituted as a lover, he locked away deep inside. If he was ever going to survive this next part, he had to remain neutral. No more letting his heart getting involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can see the end of the tunnel for this story, guys. Another four chapters, I think? And then probs like two spin offs. So we're getting there.


	33. Chapter Thirty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris learns a few things about Tom's past, but still leaves him with a lot of questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, goodness. School is really handing it to me. But hey, I think I got the ending to this story all figured out. And parts of the Liam one shot as well. It's all coming together.
> 
> Nothing much for this chapter, and I totally realized I screwed up some parts of the time line, so I'll probably go back a few chapters and change a few minor details so that the twins are actually born on the right month. It's nothing serious that you have to go back and check over.
> 
> In other news this chapter is rather chill. Nothing much. We're getting past the heavier stuff, so you know. It's coming to an end. I think that's all I've got to say.

Unpacking goes by slowly. It takes a while to unpack all of their belongings and find a proper place for them. The house is much bigger than their old one, so there’s a lot of empty space that can be filled. The first step is settling in. The second step is saving up for some new furniture. New couches and chairs for the living room. The older stuff can go into the basement. A big dining table—one that the whole family can fit around—is also high on the list. And then maybe a swing set for the kids in the backyard. That’d be nice.

It’s much easier to move and unpack the various boxes now that Tom is with them. Elsa isn’t going to be doing any heavy lifting or moving of course, so having Tom around is really helpful. Every time Chris comes back from work, more boxes have been emptied and flattened as Tom has found a place to set them. By the end of the week they have cable, internet, and the home phone all set up. India is having a great time exploring the new house, toddling from room to room as Tom follows her diligently. Elsa is marking out places on the wall with pencil marks where she wants to hang photos and is choosing out colour schemes for the rooms. Chris is looking for gently used or almost new second hand furniture for the living room as well as for the nursery for the twins. They still have a few months yet until the twins are born, but it’s better to get everything set up now so they don’t have to wait until last minute.

They don’t know the genders of the twins yet, but they will soon. Probably at Elsa’s next appointment in two weeks. In the meantime, Chris knows that there will be a baby shower for Elsa in the future which will probably be hosted by one of her friends. His parents will certainly help out in any way they can. They’re certainly excited to have two more grandchildren to coddle and spoil.

All in all, Chris thinks that everything is coming together quite nicely. They have a new house which has plenty of room for their growing family. There will be two in babies in the house in about four months’ time. Tom will also be freed in four months as well. It’s going to be exciting, all this new change. They started out in a bad place and have worked very hard to get to here. Tom has flourished here, and it’s nice to see him smile and laugh freely, to be able to act as himself. Soon Tom will be able to go anywhere and do as he pleases.

One night Chris and Tom are sitting on the couch in the living room. Elsa has gone to bed early since she’s working early tomorrow and that being pregnant means she tires more easily. It’s just the two of them tonight. Tom is lying down on one end of the couch, legs tucked up a bit so Chris can sit down on the other end. They don’t speak just yet. The silence is nice. It gives Chris some time to look around the living room and plan everything in his head.

They’ll need some curtains for the front windows. Right now they’re a little too much exposed for Chris’s liking. The floors are hardwood throughout much of the main floor. They’ll need to get a rug for the living room for the coffee table to sit on. Elsa also wants to paint in here. The colour is a bit too plain.

There’s a gentle brush against Chris’s thigh. He looks down and sees that Tom has slowly stretched out his legs. His feet are pressed against Chris’s thigh. Tom nudges his leg again, just gently. Chris drops his hands and sets them on Tom’s ankles, pulling the other man’s feet into his lap. He’s picking up on Tom’s cues and learning what he wants and needs nonverbally. Tom may not be much of a talker sometimes, but there are other ways of learning what he wants.

The first thing Tom needs is physical contact. After being deprived of a caring touch for so long, Tom is starved of affection. Since coming to Chris and Elsa’s, he’s been able to realize he doesn’t need to be so guarded. From there it’s obvious that any contact he receives he latches onto with little hesitation. A gentle touch sets everything right with him. Anything anxieties or troubles he has can be cleared away with a simple hug or a shoulder rub.

A foot rub is just as nice. And from the way Tom sighs and turns onto his back so Chris can rub a little firmer and better, this is just as good.

Chris doesn’t want to go further than a foot rub or a hug though. While a simple, closed-lipped kiss is fine every now and then—especially when it’s expected and reciprocated—Chris doesn’t really know how far Tom’s trauma extends or how it might be set off. He wants to know what Tom’s story is. Not just out of curiosity, but also how to help Tom in the future. Learn if he has any triggers and what they might be associated with. But Tom will share with him on his own time. Chris won’t force him.

“You know what I’ve realized?” Tom asks. Chris turns to look at him. He has a sleepy, dopey smile on his face.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re not like my other owners. None of them would ever get comfortable with me. Do special things for me. ’Cept Mistress Hori. She always made sure I was comfortable and taken care of.”

Chris is at a loss as to what to say. He doesn’t stop the foot rub since it’s making Tom so relaxed. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment, but then again he wants to know.

“Your . . . other owners,” Chris says, watching Tom’s body language very closely. “They hurt you, didn’t they?”

Tom closes his eyes and sighs, laying one of his arms over his face. “They weren’t all bad,” he says. “The first person who bought me was just a businessman looking for an assistant. I liked Ken. He didn’t treat me differently. It was strictly a work relationship we had. He would’ve kept me, I think, until my sentence ended.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know. Got sold off and passed around. I ended up in Japan. Ken travelled a lot for work, and I usually followed him. One of his clients was interested in me and, to close a deal they had, wanted me.”

“Did he sell you then?”

“He didn’t want to,” Tom says. “He gave me the choice, but I knew that the deal was important to him and company, so I was handed over in the end.” He sighs and stretches his legs out on Chris’s lap. He’s quiet for a very long time, and Chris thinks he’s either asleep or he’s done talking about his past.

Chris stills his hands and sets them on Tom’s ankles. His ankles are thin, just like the rest of him. The bones are prominent but in a delicate way. Tom is a lanky guy, all long limbs and sharp curves. There is this type of delicate beauty about him. But Tom is anything but delicate. He’s strong. He’s brave. He survived everything that life threw at him and came out on top. It may have been a little difficult for him, but Tom allowed himself to trust Chris and Elsa and become himself again.

Really, from the beginning, it was all Tom. Chris and Elsa were simply catalysts.

“I thought he loved me,” Tom says quietly, pulling his arm away from his face and moving to sit up. His legs are still on Chris’s lap, bent so he can lean on his knees. Chris doesn’t ask questions. He simply waits for Tom to tell him.

“The man who owned me before you.  He trained me to attend to his specific . . . needs. I was with him for three years.” Tom breaks suddenly. His face crumples and soon there are tears running down his face. He hides his face in his hands. Chris reaches forward and pulls him close, wrapping his arms around him. Tom wipes at his eyes and rests against Chris.

Tom sniffles and continues. “He kept me in a small apartment. It wasn’t his home; he just owned it. I only saw him on the weekends, and it was only him. I rarely left the apartment in those three years. I was just there to serve him. After a while I thought he liked me. I would do anything to make him happy. I never complained. Not once. And then one day he took me back to the center, and that was the end. I wasn’t special to him anymore. Perhaps I never was.”

Tom snuggles closer to Chris, resting his head on his shoulder. He’s not as distraught, but he still sniffles. “I’m sorry,” Chris says after a time. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that alone. That you had to go through that at all.”

“It’s okay,” Tom says, lifting his head. “It’s not like you had anything to do with it. Besides, I could’ve been more careful and realized that he never really loved me to begin with.”

Chris moves his arms and gently cups Tom’s face. “This isn’t your fault, Tom. Don’t blame yourself for something he did.”

Tom smiles sheepishly and moves back into Chris’s embrace. They sit on the couch for a while until Tom says he’s going to bed. Chris sees him off at the top of the basement stairs. It’s a quiet ‘goodnight’ for the both of them. Nothing more. Chris doesn’t really want to initiate most times. He doesn’t want to cause Tom any anxiety about any close contact.

Chris goes upstairs and goes through his nightly routine before climbing into bed and settling behind Elsa. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t wake. Chris settles his hand on her stomach. Soon their house will be graced with two more precious lives, and Chris will care for and love them just the same.

* * *

 

After the last ultrasound and checkup, they know now that they’re going to have twin boys. They have a picture of the twins and show it to Tom when they return home for dinner. He’s making some sort of pasta dish with salads and garlic bread. The kitchen smells heavenly when they enter it.

“Twin boys,” Elsa says, showing Tom the picture.

Tom breaks away from the stove to look at the picture. “Boys? Sounds like they might be a handful.”

“Well,” Chris says. “With the three of us it shouldn’t be too much. We can handle it.”

Tom looks up from the picture and smiles at Chris. It really is the three of them now. Unless something unforeseeable happens, Tom will have a more or less permanent home with them.

Tom turns back to the cooking. “Do you have any names picked out yet?”

“Not yet,” Chris says, coming to stand beside him at the stove to see what pasta sauce it is. It’s Alfredo, creamy and milky with small pieces of chicken. “Looks delicious by the way,” he says, inching forward to quickly dip a finger in the sauce and have a taste.

“Bugger off,” Tom says. “It’s not done yet.” He nudges Chris out of the way as he turns the heat off from the noodles to fetch a colander.

Chris goes to the other side of the kitchen to dig out the plates and bowls and glasses and utensils. Elsa is sitting down at the table already with India already set into her high chair. Chris makes easy work of the table and brings out the water and salad dressings and finally the salad bowl. Tom sets out the hotplates and carries over the noodles covered in the sauce. When he sits down, they fill their plates with food.

Chris serves himself some food and sits back for a moment to check on India and see if she’s okay. She can sort of feed herself now, but she gets messy, so every once in a while Chris reaches over to wipe her chin. Elsa and Tom are throwing out baby names at each other, and Chris realizes that he really likes this domestic feel of the new house. It works. The three of them have the right dynamic to make a house like this work. Chris can’t think of the alternative, if they wouldn’t be able to keep Tom or if they didn’t want to. What happens to a slave after they’re free? Where do they go?

At least Tom isn’t going to experience that unknown fate.

No, he will be staying here with them for as long as he wants, where he’s safe and loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think three more chapters? Yes? Good.


	34. Chapter Thirty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom suffers silently and is sold again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So this chapter will bring us up to speed a bit. This will be the final past tense chapter. Then we have one final chapter and then an epilogue. Ahhhhhhhhhh. We're almost done guys!
> 
> Just some precautions. Tom is not in the best mental state here for obvious reasons. So some dark thoughts ahead, guys. Be careful.

They didn’t have room for him in the current slave center, so they were moving him to a different one in a different city a few hours away. They would be taking him today, so he would arrive at the new center sometime later this evening.

He was escorted by two handlers. He sat like a stone in the back seat, staring out the window as other cars rushed by. There was no chance now that Master Sebastian might have a change of heart and come back for him. He should just admit it to himself that that part of his life was very much over. There was no going back to the way things were. No chance. He had to let go.

The ride was a little over four hours long. It was punctuated by one short break at one of those gas station/diner duos. He was allowed to take the time to stretch his legs and go to the washroom—escorted, of course.

They arrived at the new center a bit after seven. He was transferred to another handler and left in their care. They needed to get him set up in their systems right away, so once the preliminary things were seen to, they immediately began to see him through all the procedures.

The first thing was his cuff. Like before—many years ago—they replaced his old cuff with a new one, even slimmer and lighter than before. They made sure he was attached to their surveillance grid before sending him off once more. The next thing they did to him was give him a haircut to maintain the length of his hair. Afterwards they took his picture, a headshot to update his profile. Of course they were going to clean it up a bit. No one would probably want to buy him with that bruise on his cheek. After the easy stuff came the interview.

“Have you been feeling ill recently?” the handler asked.

“Yes, ma’am” he replied.

“Can you describe it for me, please?”

“Fatigue, loss of appetite. Um. I think that’s it.”

The handler wrote down what he said. “Have you been injured recently?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Describe your injury please.”

Now he hesitated. His overwhelmed mind decided to question him. _How can you be raped if you couldn’t say no to begin with?_ But he shook his head. He couldn’t risk having his head turning on him now, not when he needed a clear head to think.

“I was raped, ma’am,” he said, surprised with how steady his voice was.

If the handler thought something about this, she didn’t say anything. She wrote something down on the paper before her and continued with the questions. “Have you even been taken to the hospital for any reason concerning your health recently or in the past?”

“Yes, ma’am. I had a sprained left wrist four years ago, ma’am.”

More writing. “Have you engaged in any unprotected sex recently or in the past?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have.”

“Was it heterosexual, homosexual, or both?”

“Both, ma’am. Although the heterosexual sex happened many years ago, and the homosexual sex happened very recently.”

The handler wrote everything down. “All right. Let’s get you checked out then.”

Once the interview was complete, they moved him to an examination room where a doctor saw to him right away. She took the usual blood samples the like for tests. Of course they were going to be testing him for STDs and any other illnesses that happened to be residing in his body. At this point he simply didn’t care what happened.

“Okay, then,” the doctor said. “I have to ask you to take off your clothes and dress into this gown here. Just one more thing and we’ll be done here.”

The doctor and her assistant left briefly to give him some privacy as he stripped down and dressed into the thin, papery gown. They returned shortly after, and the doctor asked him to lie back on the bed with his feet in the stirrups. He got himself situated and stared up at the ceiling, jumping only a little when he felt the doctor’s cold, gloved hands on his skin.

She spoke to assistant while she took a closer look at him. “We have some tearing here,” she said calmly. “Slight inflammation. We’ll give him some antibiotics and some cream for now. If he needs further treatment, we’ll see to it.”

The assistant was sent out to fetch the items for the doctor who then gently applied the cream and told Tom to use it at night for the time being. After that he was allowed to dress back into his clothes. From there he was given some food and allowed to retire to the rec room and sleeping quarters with the other slaves. Tom avoided the rec room and when straight for the beds. He took the furthest one from the door and lay down.

While waiting for sleep to claim him, Tom turned to more dangerous thoughts. He knew he wasn’t the only slave to have been raped. Not in this cruel world. What did these handlers think of when another raped slave came to them? Were they always indifferent or did they care? And what happened if a female slave was raped and she became pregnant? The line of thought became very distressing, and Tom had to derail it before he could make himself even more upset.

Thankfully, he fell asleep.

Later, he was woken up by a handler. He sat up immediately and saw the clock on the other side of the room, seeing that it was already curfew.

“Are you IC-782?” the handler asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. Just making sure you were here. Go back to sleep.”

The handler left his side, and Tom lay back down immediately. He listened to the other slaves settle down in their beds for a bit before he fell asleep once more.

* * *

He was woken by one of the other slaves. He got to his feet and followed them to the mess hall. There was food and drink set out on tables for them to choose from. Cereal, oatmeal, toast, some fruit, juices, tea, coffee. But Tom didn’t feel hungry. If anything, he was still tired. He wondered if he could slip back into the sleeping quarters and rest for a few more minutes before they were told to get to work.

“IC-782.”

Tom was startled at first. There was a handler beside him. “Yes, ma’am?” His voice was rough and thin, almost a whisper.

“You need to eat. Come on.”

She gently led him to where the food and drinks were. She waited for him as he made some toast and served himself some coffee. She took him to an open spot at one of the empty tables and made sure he ate everything he had before him. He didn’t know why she suddenly cared. He was just another slave, another nameless soul waiting for the day when he could return to whatever was left of his life. Why did she suddenly care?

Perhaps it was because he was so broken. They wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to try anything drastic.

Were there cases of slaves committing suicide? What happened after that? What was the procedure?

While Tom wasn’t keen on the idea of ending his life, he felt like he was already dead. With Master Sebastian, he had a purpose. He had something to look forward to, to get himself through the week. But now he felt like he was adrift. Master Sebastian had cut him loose and left him to wander on his own. He was back at the start now after so many years away. He had to relearn the ways of being a normal slave, how to be that passive presence.

But there was so much noise inside his head that he couldn’t familiarize himself with this side of life. He needed a moment to himself so he could clear out the noise and focus solely on his life here at the center.

It seemed that the handler was merely observing him and seeing if he was ready for any sort of work they had.

Apparently she decided he wasn’t ready for anything.

“Go and rest for a while,” she said after he had finished his meagre breakfast. “I’ll call you up if you have any interviews or if we need an extra hand.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Tom properly disposed of his used dishes and went to the sleeping quarters to lie down. If this was the only reprieve he was going to get, he was going to take it.

* * *

He woke a few hours later. He winced as he sat up. Even though he was told to take a few hours rest, he felt bad for lazing about. The others still had to work. He should go out and see if there was anything he needed to do.

He left the quarters and tracked down the first handler he could find. “Excuse me, sir. I was wondering if there’s anything you need me to do.”

“IC-782, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Right. Good. Umm, I think I got something for you to do. Follow me.”

Tom was led to one of the office rooms. A stack of papers was set before him.

“Here,” the handler said. “I want you to fold these into pamphlets.” He folded one as an example and set it before Tom. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom took the seat that he was allowed to use and folded the thick, colourful paper into threes. He took his time, making sure his folds were sharp and precise. It didn’t take him very long, but the handler that was supervising him kept watch over him, making sure he had enough to keep him busy.

It was nice to be holed up in this little office for most of the day. He wouldn’t run into anyone here and wouldn’t have to be questioned or looked at because of his bruises. Perhaps that was why he was being cared for like this. They obviously didn’t want to stress him out. Surely they must know he’d been abused. The signs were all too clear.

The rest of the day was quiet. He had his meals with the other slaves when it was time. He kept his distance from them, not too eager about being questioned or crowded in by anyone. The slaves never bothered him.

He used the cream, took his pills, and was the most dutiful slave he could be. He was respectful, quiet, and neutral. The handlers let him go about his business unimpeded. They had nothing to say about his etiquette. He never mouthed off to them or needed to be reprimanded. He was Slave IC-782. He was not his own person. He was whatever his superiors needed him to be.

* * *

It was a surprise that on the second day he was at the center to be called forward for an interview. He was led to a separate room to see who placed a bid on him. He stood near the wall in standard resting position. He caught a glimpse of the people who were interested in buying him. A man and a woman both dressed in smart business attire.

“This is IC-782,” the handler said. “He just arrived two days ago. As you can see, he has a few bruises and isn’t in the best condition. If you want, we can hold him for you until he’s in a more favourable condition.”

“Well,” the woman said. “What we’re looking for is someone who’s had experience with small children and house care. The other slaves we’ve interviewed haven’t quite met our qualifications.”

“And we’ll need him today,” the man added. “If that’s possible.”

“Arrangements can be made,” the handler said. “If you want to ask IC-782 some questions, you may do that now.”

Tom was asked to step forward, and he looked up as well so he could face his potential buyers. They looked too professional to be buying him for themselves, but then again they could’ve just gotten off of work and came to see what they were buying.

“Have you worked with small children before?” the woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you describe what you did?”

“Yes, ma’am. A few years ago I was bought to look after my master’s two children and the house. The girl was four when I showed up and the boy was six months. I stayed with them for over two years. I helped feed the children, put them to bed, and watch over them during the day.”

“And in terms of housework? What did you do?”

“I did everything that was asked of me, ma’am. I cooked and cleaned and did everything I was ordered to do.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Tom stepped back and went quiet.

“Is he what you want?” the handler asked.

“Yes,” the man said. “Just what we needed. We’ll take him.”

The handler turned to Tom and said he could go and pack up his belongings. He left the room and went to the sleeping quarters where his meagre belongings were, resting under the far bed. He had only three changes of clothes with him. Everything else that he had, or rather, was allowed to use was left behind at the apartment to be disposed of by Master Sebastian. Just another reminder that a slave had no possessions. Only privileges.

He returned to the room as soon as he was able. He set his belongings down by his feet and rested by the wall as he waited for the others to finish their business. After they had signed the papers, the handler pressed a device to Tom’s cuff and concluded the matter with the man and woman.

Tom followed the man and woman out of the center, clutching his bag lightly. They took him to their car. They said nothing to him, nothing about where they were taking him or what he was supposed to do. They drove off and took him to another building. He saw the sign out front: _Kershaw Insurance Company._ He had no idea what an insurance company would want with a slave, but he kept quiet and followed them where they led him. They led him to the front desk of the office. From there he started to get more information.

“This is IC-782,” the woman said to the other behind the desk. “We’ve got his information on paper here.” She set down a thin folder on the desk. “And we’ll be sent it electronically as well. We can bring him over right now. We just need the address.”

“All right. I’ll just go get that information for you. One second, please.”

The woman behind the desk walked off, leaving Tom alone with the people who bought him. He wanted to ask some questions to see where he would be going to prepare himself. But he couldn't open his mouth to get the words out. If they felt like they needed to tell him, they would.

And they did.

“You'll be going out to a client’s house,” the man explained. “What happens is we, the company, buy a few slaves so we can rent them out to certain clients who need help around the house due to an accident. You'll be at this client’s house for about six weeks, and then we'll come back and pick up to take you back to the center until you're needed again. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

The woman from behind the desk returned and told the others where to bring Tom. Tom followed them back out to the car and was loaded up in the back seat. The drive wasn't terribly long. It took them to a row of houses just off the main road. These houses were older, built on small lots with often unpaved driveways. The house they parked before seemed empty. There was no car parked in the driveway. He couldn't see if any lights were on. Still he was told to get out and follow them up the narrow walkway to the front door.

He stood behind the man and woman as they knocked on the door. They had to knock twice and exchanged glances. Probably wondering if they should return later. Then finally the door opened, and Tom got to see his new master for the first time.

“Hello, Mr. Hemsworth,” the man said. “We're from Kershaw Insurance. Due to the nature of your accident, you qualify for our in house assistance program. Slave IC-782 here behind me will be here to help you with anything you might need. This letter will explain the arrangement in more detail.” The man in the doorway took the letter. Nothing much was said after that, and the man and woman excused themselves from the house, saying if Mr. Hemsworth had any questions that he should just call and ask. They got into their car and drove away, leaving Tom standing on the porch before his new master.

Mr. Hemsworth was large. He was built solid and tall, taller than Tom. One of his legs was set in a cast and all over the visible parts of his body were bruises and healing cuts scabbed over. His blue eyes were glazed over probably due to some sort of pain killer. Tom waited to be ordered into the house, but the man just looked at him closely before turning back into the house and closing the door. It didn't fully latch, but Tom didn't dare head inside. He was a good slave, and a good slave didn’t move unless ordered to.

* * *

It was a strange few hours in the Hemsworth house. The Master, Chris, was tired and in pain. And he didn’t seem to like the idea of having a slave in his house. The Mistress, Elsa, was kind and considerate. She handled herself appropriately and managed to get her husband on board with the idea of having a slave around the house.

He didn’t do much that first night, which was a surprise to him. Master Chris watched over the young daughter India while Mistress Elsa busied herself in the kitchen. Tom remained quietly on the sidelines, waiting for an order so he could settle and find his place in this house. Mistress Elsa would ask him to do a few things here and there. She would ask him kindly, always adding a ‘please’ with a smile. At first it was shocking to be spoken to like this. But Tom didn’t let it faze him too long and did what he was asked to do.

They offered him a place at their table to eat. He wasn’t expecting it, but thanked them very much and sat on the edge of his seat just in case it was taken away for whatever reason. He helped a little clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen. Mistress Elsa was there, too.

They didn’t ask him to take India to bed. Although Mistress Elsa did show him around her room a bit so he could help out with Master Chris the next day. There wasn’t much to do after that, and he was excused to settle in for the night.

He excused himself to his room, intending on staying there until he was needed less he get in the way. The room they put him in was comfortable enough. There was a generous queen sized bed, a dresser, a night table, and a closet. But Tom did not set out his small amount of stuff. He was staying only temporarily and he felt that if he didn’t have permission to use the furniture in the room that he wouldn’t be allowed to use them at all. Rather safe than sorry.

He readied himself for sleep, setting himself out on the floor of the room. The carpet was thin, warn from years of use. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was something he was used to. He didn’t have a blanket or pillow to use—was too scared to take them from the bed. So he used his bag, making it comfortable by moving around his clothes to create something for his head to rest upon. As a habit he left the door open a smidge. The clock that sat on the night table was also moved down so he could keep track of the time.

It took him a very long time to settle down that night. The house creaked and made strange noises, testaments to its age. He could hear his Master and Mistress settling down across the hall from him. While he knew he was only here for a short time, he didn’t know what to expect from his new owners. He would be helping Master Chris taking care of the house and the baby India, but he didn’t know if any other services would be required of him. At this point he expected anything and everything. He wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t refuse. He would be compliant and obedient, like a slave should be.

He would submit to his Master’s and Mistress’s needs whatever they might be, because as a slave, that was all he lived for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's with the Hemsworths!!! WE MADE IT! We're finally coming full circle.


	35. Chapter Thirty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hemsworths welcome the addition of two new babies and Tom receives his freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this chapter took a while to write. A lot of stuff happens in this chapter. Also, it took me forever to realize this but I just realized that a giant part of Chapter 3 was left out. It adds more detail to the chapter and makes sense of details. So if you wanna go back and check it out, please do.

Elsa’s due date slowly approaches as March approaches. She officially went on leave near the end of January. Carrying twins puts a lot of strain on her back and legs, so Tom looks after her and the house. Chris comes home one day and finds them in the living room. Elsa is supported by a multitude of pillows and Tom is massaging her swollen feet. India is set up on a blanket surrounded by her toys. They look up when he makes his entrance.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” Elsa says, reaching up to cup his face as he bends over the back of the couch to kiss her.

“Relaxing day?” he asks and steps back to shed his coat and loosen his tie.

“Mm, very,” she says. “Tom is so sweet and considerate.”

Tom laughs. “Well, I just couldn’t sit by and do nothing, seeing as you’re carrying twins who are absolutely merciless towards their lovely mother.”

“Flatterer.”

“I’ll be right back,” Chris says. “Just going to change out of this.”

When he’s in something looser, he wanders into the kitchen for a drink and takes a peek at the foil wrapped something in the oven. Casserole most likely. He returns to the living room and sits down on the love seat. Elsa and Tom are throwing baby names at each other, laughing about some of them.

“Tristan,” Elsa suggests.

“Yes,” Tom agrees. “I like that one.”

“What about you, Chris?” she asks. “What do you think?”

Chris nods. “I like it.”

“Got any suggestions? Any names?” Tom asks.

“Nah. You don’t want to ask that from me. You’re looking at the guy who had a dog named Spot when he was growing up. I’m not all creative with names.”

“Oh, come on. Just one.”

“All right. Just give me a minute.” Chris runs a few names through his head. They’re having twin boys, so of course he sticks boy names. He has a few picked out that he decides to go with. “Um, Colton, Sasha, Gregory.”

“Sasha,” Tom says. “I like that one. Sasha and Tristan.” He looks up at Elsa first then Chris. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Elsa says. “I like both of them. They sound good together. What do you think, Chris? Do you like them?”

“I do, actually. It’s good.”

Tom sets Elsa’s feet aside and stands up. He excuses himself to check on dinner. Chris moves over to sit beside her, setting his arm over her shoulders and pulling her close to his side. He sets his other hand on her stomach. She holds it there.

“They’ve been busy today,” she says.

“Have they?”

“Mmhmm. They’re quite restless.”

“They’re just ready to be born then,” he says, feeling one of them kick his hand.

Then India decides to walk over and pats at Chris’s leg to get his attention. “Daddy, up,” she says, patting his leg again until he reaches down and picks her up.

“There’s my girl,” he says, smooching her cheek. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah. Me n’ Tom played.”

“You did? What did you play with Tom?”

“Uh, hide n’. N’ seek.”

“Did you two have fun?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad you had fun.”

India squirms around on his lap, wanting to touch mommy’s belly as well. She’s becoming more inquisitive these days, and her speaking skills are coming along. She must be picking some things up from Tom, who is probably the one who talks the most in this house now. Soon India will have two brothers to look after and play with.

Very soon.

* * *

In the middle of March, Chris gets the call at work. He drops everything and rushes home. Everything has been ready to go for days now. Tom is going to stay behind at the house with India and keep an eye on everything.

It’s not a long drive to the hospital, but still with Elsa in labour, Chris is acutely aware that _it’s happening now_ and soon little Tristan and little Sasha will be in their arms.

He gets to the hospital parking lot and helps Elsa out of the passenger seat, slinging the overnight bag over his shoulder so he can support her fully. They get inside and a wheelchair is brought out immediately as soon as one of the nurses catches sight of Elsa.

Chris stays with her in the room they have her in for a while. He stays with her as the hours drag by. It’s slow going. The twins are in no hurry to be born. But still. The wait is long and certainly isn’t enjoyable for Elsa. Chris sits by her side diligently, getting anything she requires, holding her hand when she needs it, and pushing back her sweaty hair.

It’s very early the next morning that Elsa is fully dilated and they move her into the delivery room. Chris waits outside where he is allowed, sitting down on the chairs, pacing the halls to grab a coffee before sitting down again. It’s a long wait, and Chris wishes he had someone to sit with. He took time to call his family and explain everything while they were getting Elsa comfortable in the room. But his parents live a few hours away. Same with his brother Luke.

Well, soon enough they should be home, he hopes.

* * *

It’s not long before he’s back with Elsa, holding one of the twins in his arms. He’s holding Tristan. Sasha is in Elsa’s arms. The only difference between them is the different coloured caps they wear on their heads. Tristan is so small in his arms. So is Sasha. Chris simply watches as his little boy simply breathes, fussing only a little.

“He’s so small,” Chris says quietly.

“They both are,” Elsa says. “It’s hard to believe they’re finally here with us.” She runs her finger over Sasha’s cheek gently. “You should go home,” she says. “Get some rest.”

“You sure?” he asks.

She nods. “Yeah. We should all get some sleep.”

Sleep would be nice.

He hands Tristan off to the nurse and swoops down to kiss Elsa before heading out. He’ll be back tomorrow . . . or rather later today to pick them all up.

He collapses into bed a little after three o’clock. He falls asleep quickly.

* * *

“I think we’re going to have to invest in a mini-van,” Elsa says, looking back at the twins lying snuggly in their car seats. “Or an SUV.”

“We’ve reached the mini-van stage of life then,” Chris says, taking the corners slowly.

“Yeah, and soon we’ll be soccer parents.”

Chris laughs.

* * *

Tom has set up the nursery, so it’s ready to go as soon as they enter the house. He’s with India in the living room and stands up to greet them with India trailing after them.

“Welcome home!” he says, smiling. He takes a look at the twins, and his face goes soft. “Oh, look at that. They’re so cute.”

India looks down at her new brothers and says, “Baby.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Tom says. “There are two new babies in the house.”

They let India admire her two new brothers before taking them upstairs and setting them down in their cribs. They’ll sleep for a bit before getting fed. In the meantime, Elsa wants to take a nap and heads to the master bedroom.

“Wake me if they start fussing, okay?” she asks.

“Of course,” Chris says. “Get some rest.” He kisses her before she shuts the door.

He goes back into the nursery to just look at Tristan and Sasha. He finds Tom in there, holding India so she can get a better look at them.

“They small,” she whispers.

“Yes, they are small,” Tom replies. “But they won’t be for long.”

Chris steps in and stands beside him.

“They’re so beautiful, Chris,” Tom says. “You should be proud.”

“I am. I couldn’t be happier.”

They take India out of the nursery and back downstairs where her toys are laid out in the living room. Chris gets down on the floor with her to play. Tom is busy doing other things around the house, so overall it’s pretty quiet.

Later, he gets up to put India down for her nap. She’s a bit fussy going down, but she lies down, and Chris makes sure the room is set up for her before going back downstairs to find Tom. He’s folding laundry, setting the clothes into piles according to function and who they belong to. Chris comes up behind him, setting his hands down on Tom’s shoulders and begins to knead the muscle there.

Tom stops folding. “I love your hands,” he says.

“I know,” Chris says. “They’re magical.” He massages for a few moments more until he slips around to the other side of the couch and sits down beside Tom. Tom sets aside the socks he was about to roll as Chris leans forward.

They kiss. This time it’s stronger than the ones before, deeper. Tom makes a small noise that is easily swallowed up by Chris. When they pull away, Tom’s cheeks are flushed pink.

“You’re going to be freed soon,” Chris says.

“Yes, I know.”

“What do you think about it?”

Tom shrugs. “I haven’t thought much about it to be honest. It still feels surreal that after all these years it’s finally going to end.”

Chris holds Tom’s wrists lighting. The black cuff may be slim, but it still feels obstructive. He doesn’t even know how long Tom has been slave. Perhaps one day he’ll tell them. When he’s ready.

* * *

The afternoon is spent looking after the twins and holding them gently. Phone calls are made to family and close friends. Chris has a long talk with his parents, saying they should come down sometime soon to see the twins. It’d be nice to have them over, and they promise to take a look at their calendar to see what dates work for them.

He still hasn’t told anyone about Tom. A few friends know, but not his family. A year and half later and they still don’t know about him. And Chris doesn’t know why he isn’t telling them. Perhaps it’s because it’ll be too close to home for them. Seeing Tom and remembering Liam, just as Chris did all those months ago.

They set India and the twins down for bed that night together, Tom watching closely as Elsa handles the newborns with tender care. Despite the prospect that Tom will be free in a short time and that the future is a little uncertain as to what he wants to do, Tom will be involved in raising the twins. He has a place here with Chris and Elsa.

The three of them settle in the living room as per usual. Tom is quiet. And he looks very serious. A few minutes later Chris learns the reason why.

Tom sits up. He looks right at them, and Chris can tell Elsa is watching him as well.

“I want to tell you,” he says.

They both know what he means without further explanation.

“You don’t have to,” Elsa says.

“I know, but I feel like I should. Just so you know and so there’s nothing left between us.” They wait for Tom to begin his tale.

It must be good for him, Chris thinks, to be able to get this all off his chest. It’s also a sign of trust. Tom has come a long since he first set foot on their doorstep. He’s still healing, still has some hurdles he needs to get over, but he’s better than before.

He starts at the beginning. He was young. In his second year of university when he was sold. And he doesn’t even know the reason why, he says. He got into a sticky situation, trusted the wrong people and was basically betrayed. Sold off to pay money he owed. Duped.

It’s shocking, but Chris knows that this isn’t the worst of it.

He says the first few years weren’t that bad. His first three owners were kind to him, treated him fairly. He started in his hometown and eventually moved to Japan then to the States. In the same area he had three owners. When he gets to talking about Master Cole, Chris just knows that it’s going to take a turn for the worse.

“He was very angry,” Tom says. “He wanted everything to be perfect around the house. He wasn’t happy in his marriage either.”

Chris tries to find his voice. “Did he . . . did he hurt you?”

“Yes. He never hurt his family, thank God. He did love them, but he had to take his anger out on someone, and I was the only closest for him to do so.”

Tom spares them the details, but it still bothers Chris. Tom was in a defenceless position, couldn’t protect himself, and was beaten for any mistakes that would be considered nothing by any other person. That explains the broken glass incident.

And then he gets to Master Sebastian. Chris knows a little about Sebastian, but not all the details. Tom tells him that Cole scared him into submission to the point where Tom wouldn’t refuse any order. That’s when Sebastian came along and bought Tom.

“He kept me separate from his work life,” he says. “He had an apartment he kept me in. He only came to me on the weekends. I don’t even know if he had a wife or a family. I was there for only one purpose. He wanted me as a sex slave. Because it was only him and I rarely left the apartment, he became my entire world. I lived for him, for his praise, for his acceptance. I loved him, I think. I thought he loved me.”

Tom goes into telling them the nature of their relationship. He tells them a little about the club Sebastian took him to. It sounds like a very shady place. Then he tells them about a man, a man who watched him, a man who wanted him. He doesn’t say it, but they get the picture.

“I don’t know why Sebastian let it happen to me,” Tom says. “I never questioned it. I guess now he couldn’t live with his guilt. I was supposed to be his, and he let me get injured. He sold me. I felt very lost without him. I thought I did something wrong for him to sell me. It was the only logical solution.

“After he sold me, they moved me here where there was more room at the slave center. Immediately I was bought by the insurance company and brought to your house. And that’s it. That’s, uh, that’s my story.”

Elsa moves on the couch. She makes a spot beside her and tells Tom to come over. She holds him first, letting him relax and cry out the silent tears he’s been holding onto for a very long time.

“You did nothing wrong,” she says. “I don’t want you blaming yourself for what they did.”

“I don’t,” Tom says. “At least, I don’t think I do. Not anymore.” He pulls away from her a bit, but she keeps her hand on his arm. “I want to thank you, both of you, for taking care of me. For buying me, really. I honestly don’t know where I would be if you hadn’t kept me.”

“Let’s not think about that,” Chris says softly. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Tom smiles at him.

Elsa pulls him back into her arms. She kisses his cheek. “We love you,” she says.

“I know,” Tom replies. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Three weeks after the twins’ birth, Chris receives a final email from the slave center about Tom’s release date. It’s scheduled for a Thursday, no specific time. They circle the date in red pen and starred on the calendar in the kitchen. Chris will return after work to pick Tom up and bring him to the center since he’s the legal owner.

Tom is all smiles when he slips into the car that afternoon.

“Ready?” Chris asks.

“Yes.”

They drive in silence. Tom is shifty in his seat, nervous and excited as well he should be. They get to the center and walk in together. For the first part, Chris speaks and takes the lead. He goes to the front desk and is seen to, asked what he needs.

“Yeah, today is the day my slave is to be freed. Is there anything I need to do?”

“Yes,” the receptionist says. “I just need your signature on this form here. It’s just a notice that you, as the owner, are handing over your claims for ownership and that you saw your slave off.”

It’s a quick signature and then he hands the form back.

“All right. IC-782, follow me please.”

Chris turns to Tom before he walks away. “I’ll wait in the car for you.”

“All right.” Tom’s smile is tight. He’s still nervous.

* * *

Chris waits in the car as he promised. He waits for half an hour, texting Elsa about the news and how they’ll be a little late. When Tom finally comes out, he looks like a different person. He isn’t wearing hand-me-down clothing. His posture is straight and relaxed. He’s looking forward, not down on the ground. His face is a little more open, less sombre. And there’s no cuff on his wrist.

He gets into the car and buckles up before releasing a sigh of relief. “I’m free,” he says quietly. He turns in his seat to face Chris. “I’m free!”

Chris leans over and pulls Tom closer with an arm over both his shoulders. Tom laughs and leans in. They kiss, Tom showing more enthusiasm now than he has before.

Chris pulls back, sitting back in his own seat.

“Oh my God,” Tom says, wiping at his eyes. “I can’t believe it. I’m finally free.”

Chris turns the key in the ignition and pulls the car out of the parking lot. Then he notices the papers in Tom’s hands. “What do you got there?”

Tom looks down at them. “Oh. These. Well, after they got the cuff off, they said they have a program for freed slaves. This is just a packet of what they offer.”

“Is it a mandatory thing?”

Tom shakes his head. “They said they could offer me a place to stay and a work program to get me back on my feet. I said no, obviously, but it’s nice to know that the others have an option to fall back on. That there are services for people like me.”

It is nice to know, Chris thinks. It’s nice to know that when Liam gets to that point in his life that he’ll be okay. He’ll be looked after, and that is a very comforting notion.

Chris and Elsa also have plans on helping Tom like this. They plan on looking around to see if there are any jobs Tom can look into. He has voiced his opinion on the matter. He does wish to work in order to help out with the house. He doesn’t want to feel like a freeloader and be entirely dependent on them. Chris and Elsa both understand this. And they’ll support him whatever he decides.

To celebrate Tom’s new found freedom, they decide to call in a babysitter and go out Friday night for dinner and drinks. Tom is quite enthusiastic about going out and being able to do whatever he wants for a change. While he’s still nervous about a few things, living with Chris and Elsa has definitely helped him adjust to normal life, being able to have a voice and make decisions on his own. It’s going to be a good night.

* * *

They have dinner first. It’s nice to be able to sit together like this and have easy conversation with one another. It’s normal. It’s nice. Chris likes where they’ve ended up and doesn’t regret anything. Having Tom part of their family is something Chris never would’ve expected. But now that they're here and they’ve made it so far, it’s nice having Tom as part of their family. It’s the three of them now.

After dinner, Tom says, “I propose we go out for drinks and dancing. Lots of dancing.”

They can never say no to Tom. Especially since it’s his first free night on the town. And Elsa would also like to go dancing. So they drive around town for a bit, looking for a nice club or bar that is agreeable to all. Chris parks and they all get out and enter the bar. It’s full but not overcrowded. The music isn’t too loud and the atmosphere feels welcoming.

Elsa leads Tom to the bar while Chris follows. He’ll be driving later and will have only one or two drinks. First, they all drink a shot. Then two. Then Chris gets a beer while Tom and Elsa ask about different types of drinks.

“I haven’t had a drink in years,” Tom says.

“Well, let’s get you reacquainted then,” Elsa says.

They order their drinks and move through the crowds to get a table. They sit down with their drinks, Chris watching Tom as he sips his drink. His face screws up a bit at the taste, but it has been years since he’s had a taste of alcohol.

It isn’t long before Tom wishes to dance. It’s clear he doesn’t want to go on his own, though he doesn’t say it. But Elsa wants to do dance and takes him away from the table and to where there’s more space. Chris stays behind to watch their drinks. He’s also not much of a dancer, so staying behind is much more appealing to him.

Another plus is that he gets to enjoy the view.

What he sees is a purely uninhibited and joyous Tom. He’s a very good dancer. It’s nice to be able to see him so carefree for once. It truly is a lovely image.

* * *

They drink and dance their way well into the night. By the time they leave, all are in good spirits. Now it’s time to get back.

It’s a quiet, sleepy ride back. Chris parks the car. Elsa gets out to go pay the baby sitter and see her off. Chris is left with the task of getting Tom out of the car. The few drinks he had during the night really put him under.

He opens the side door and reaches in to unbuckle Tom’s seatbelt and get him to his feet. “You awake?” he asks and receives a groan in reply.

He gets Tom out of the car and supports him as the walk into the house. From there they take off their shoes and jackets and Chris helps him down the stairs to the basement. Tom presses close and giggles when he loses his footing and Chris has to support his full weight.

“All right, you,” Chris says. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Tom is sleepy and completely unhelpful. He keeps reaching for Chris, trying to pull him closer.

“Not now, Tom,” he says. “You’re drunk.” He still lets himself be pulled closer to Tom can rest his head on Chris’s shoulder.

“Do you promise?” Tom asks quietly. “To love me?”

“I do, yeah.”

Tom’s hands run down his chest. “I want to sleep with you one day. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course.” Chris doesn’t know what the future holds for them, for the three of them. If they’ll become openly intimate with each other. But they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it.

Tom stumbles a bit, falling against Chris with a laugh before Chris pushes him back onto the bed so he can get Tom’s shirt and pants off. As soon as he’s free from the clothing, he latches onto Chris and pulls him down onto the bed.

“Wanna snuggle,” Tom says, curling up into Chris’s side and laying his head on Chris’s chest. “You’re so warm,” he says. “I don’t like being cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” Chris says, wrapping his arms around Tom and fishing around for the blankets to cover Tom.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Tom falls asleep quickly. He’s dead weight on Chris, and Chris doesn’t have the heart to try and move him and go back upstairs.

Elsa comes down a while later to see what they’re up to. Chris holds a finger to his lips as she steps in.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he returns. “I don’t think I’m moving anytime soon.”

“That’s fine. I figured something might’ve happened along the way, so.” She brings out the baby monitor from her robe pocket and sets it down by the night table by Chris’s head. She helps he get his pants off so he’s a little more comfortable during the night. Then she turns off the light and goes to the other side of the bed.

“Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

* * *

Chris is the first to get up. He hears one of the twins whimpering from the monitor. He sits up and stretches, looking behind him to see that during the night Tom has moved closer to Elsa, always in search of body heat.

Chris picks up his pants from last night and takes the baby monitor upstairs. It feels too early to be considering the night they had last night, but it’s time for the twins to get up. First, he sets the baby bouncers in the kitchen so he can get them strapped in after he brings them downstairs. Then he gets Tristan out of his crib, changed, and in new clothes for the day. Then it’s Sasha’s turn. Soon both are ready, and he carries them down the stairs and into the kitchen, kneeling down on the ground so he can carefully set them up in the seats, buckling them up safely. He’ll wake India soon if no one else is up yet.

He makes coffee as he waits, getting a big pot ready. Then he pulls some food out from the fridge and sets it on the island. Eggs, toast, bacon, bread, some fruit. It’s not long after that the coffee is made that Elsa makes her appearance.

“Good morning,” she says, walking over to fall into Chris’s chest.

“Good morning.”

“Is India still in bed?”

“Yeah. I haven’t gotten her up yet. I’ve been keeping an eye on the twins.”

“That’s fine. I’ll get her up.” She turns away, smoothing out her hair.

“Is there anything specific you want for breakfast?”

“Mmmm, coffee. Lots of coffee.”

Chris grins. “Will do.”

She returns later with India. Chris starts cooking some eggs and toast while Elsa sets some food out for India in her highchair and prepares two bottles for the twins. Food is already laid out on the table and the twins are being fed by the time Tom makes his appearance. He’s pulled some flannel pants on and a sweater. His hair is tousled, lying flat on one side. Chris walks towards him, bearing a steaming cup of coffee as an offering.

“Good morning,” he says.

Tom doesn’t reply and simply buts his head against Chris’s shoulder. “The bed was cold,” he says, standing up straight to take the coffee from Chris’s hands and moving to the table.

Chris picks up Sasha and sets him up in his arms with a towel set on the table before him. He picks up the heated baby bottle and sets the nipple to Sasha’s mouth.

It’s a peaceful Saturday morning. The sky is clear, letting the sun stream in through the deck door. It’s quiet except for the sounds of having breakfast. The table is so full now where just a year and half ago there were only three sitting around the breakfast table.

Chris very much likes where things have ended up. There are a lot of things he doesn’t know the answer to—if Tom will stay with them indefinitely, if he’ll ever see Liam again—but he knows that for now everything in this moment is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter, guys.
> 
> *crying noises*


	36. Chapter Thirty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom comes home Christmas Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE DID IT! WE MADE IT! I hope everyone's still in one piece. 
> 
> So what I got for you guys today is nothing but fluff. Also references to happy stable triad relationship. If you didn't pick that up in the last chapter, it's definitely here now. It's very much the three of them. But, you know, take it as you will.
> 
> Leave comments and stuff. I love to hear from you guys.

_The following Christmas . . ._

It’s very early in the morning. Tom can’t seem to keep his eyes open as the taxi brings him home. It’s very cold, but the sky is clear so no snow. He wakes up when the car stops and he sees the house illuminated. The taxi driver gets out and Tom stretches a bit before he gets out of the car. The driver gets his suitcase out from the trunk while Tom pulls out his wallet and gets ready to pay for the fare. He adds a generous tip since it’s late at night. He says goodnight and merry Christmas and takes his stuff into the house. They’ve left the door unlocked for him and the front hall light on so he doesn’t have to stumble.

He locks the door first before taking his suitcase downstairs to his room. He’ll empty it tomorrow. Right now he’s looking for his flannel pants and cotton t-shirt he wears to bed. He dresses and leaves his room, heading upstairs and skipping brushing his teeth because _he’s so bloody tired._

He enters the master bedroom quietly. There’s enough space for him on the bed behind Elsa. She’s wrapped around Chris who is sprawled out on the left half of the bed. Tom peels back the bedcovers and shimmies down behind Elsa. Just when he thinks he got in without making a disturbance, Elsa stirs and turns towards him.

“Sorry to wake you,” Tom whispers.

She shakes her head. “It’s fine. You must be tired.”

Tom closes his eyes. “Mmmm.”

Her hand is on his face, stroking his cheek lightly before he feels her kiss him lightly on the lips before exhaustion takes him.

* * *

He sleeps like a log that night, not moving one inch. It isn’t until ten o’clock the next day that he first wakes and flips onto his side so he’s facing the wall. He’s created a nice bubble of warmth from the blankets. While still exhausted, he feels a little rested.

He’s intending on catnapping for a bit before going downstairs and seeking out breakfast. But the other occupant of the bed has other ideas, and Tom suddenly finds himself wrapped up in a pair of strong arms. Chris throws one of his legs over Tom’s as well, thoroughly caging him in. Tom wiggles a bit until he has some room to turn over and face Chris properly.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Welcome home,” Chris says.

Tom contends himself to be held by Chris and soak up the warmth. “Where’s Elsa?”

“Looking after the kids. Are you going to sleep some more?”

Tom shakes his head. “I should get up or I’ll never cope with the jet lag.”

Chris eventually relinquishes his hold on Tom so he can get up and go to the bathroom. The bed is empty when Tom returns. Chris must’ve gone downstairs then.

Tom travels downstairs and heads to the kitchen. There the twins are already set up in their highchairs while India is trailing behind Elsa. Until she sees Tom and runs over with a squeal. She holds her arms up and Tom bends down to scoop her up in his arms.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her on the cheek. “Did you miss me?”

She squirms in his arms. “Yeah.”

He seats himself at the kitchen table. Chris is getting the breakfast for the twins ready while Elsa is finishing the coffee and bringing over some mugs.

“Good morning, Tom,” she says. “Sleep well?”

“Perfectly,” he replies taking the steaming mug in one hand, while maintaining his grip on India with the other. He stirs in some sugar but otherwise leaves it black. Chris brings over some food and offers some to Tom.

“Anything in particular you want?” he says.

“Just some toast with jam,” Tom replies. “I’m not all that hungry.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Chris. I’m sure.”

Later, he eats his toast, enjoying the feeling of being home. He had enjoyed his two weeks back with his family in England, but being back with Chris and Elsa gives him a sense of peace. This is where he healed and came back to himself. Here he doesn’t have to live with the what-ifs or the pressure of trying to piece his old life back together. Here he can be himself as he is now.

The day is spent in peace. It’s Christmas Eve. The house is all set up for the festivities: the Christmas tree swathed in lights and ornaments, wrapped presents sitting at its base. It’s all quite wonderful. He has a few presents stashed away in his room that he needs to add to the pile yet, gifts he’s had hidden away since before his trip and a few he bought while over in England.

India spends the day on his lap as he shows off the photo album his mum gave him for Christmas. His family had a small get together before he had to leave. They understood why he wanted to be back home in time for Christmas with his new family. They were beginning to understand a lot of things about him. And most importantly they supported his decision in staying with the Hemsworths.

“And that,” Tom says, pointing in the next picture, “is my older sister and her two children.”

India isn’t so much interested in learning about all the people as she is in seeing all the fun stuff that London has to offer in the winter.

It was the first time Tom got to meet his niece and nephew. His niece five years old and his nephew was three. It was also the first time he got to meet his brother in law. His family has changed over the years, but they still loved him very dearly and were happy to know he was safe.

“You’re family seems wonderful, Tom,” Chris says from where he sits on the couch behind him.

“They are,” he says. “It was nice to be able to see them again.”

His family asked questions of course. They wanted to know. He spared them the details. He didn’t want them to worry.

He goes to bed early that night, sleeping in his own room. He’s welcome in Chris’s and Elsa’s room whenever he wishes. Sometimes he sleeps with them. Sometimes he sleeps by himself. It’s a type of freedom that he truly appreciates having. This is what love is.

He slept with them last night because he wanted to wake up beside someone else. It was a nice feeling knowing that someone else was beside you.

Before he goes to bed, he quickly adds the three wrapped presents to the base of the tree.

* * *

The next morning he’s woken up by a small body jumping on him.

“Time to get up, Tom!”

It’s India. She’s sitting on his stomach, making it a little difficult to breathe.

“Good morning, love,” he says.

“Good m’rning! It’s Christmas.”

“It is. Did daddy tell you to come wake me up?”

She smiles. “Yeah.”

“I thought he might.” He sits up. “All right. You go tell daddy that Tom would like tea this morning.”

“Tea?”

“Yes. Can you tell daddy that? Tom would like . . .”

“Tom would like.”

“Tea.”

“Tea.”

“Got that?”

“Yeah.”

She hops off the bed and is running out the door and to the stairs.

Tom flops onto his back and takes a moment to stretch and relax before getting out of bed and changing into some clean clothes.

When he gets to the top of the stairs, he’s greeted by Chris, holding a mug of steaming tea.

“Got my message?” Tom asks.

“Sure did. Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Tom takes the mug and follows Chris into the kitchen.

“Special occasion,” Chris says as he sets a plate with two pancakes on the table. “Plus Indy requested them for today.”

“How thoughtful. Thank you.” He kisses Chris’s cheek before sitting down at the table where Elsa is busy feeding the twins.

After a sweet breakfast, they move into the living room to open presents. Chris sits down by the tree while Tom sits with Elsa and holds Sasha. They start with India. Tom bought her a toy while in London. A plushie of her favourite animal, a dog. She takes to it immediately.

Elsa gets a pair of boots from Chris. Judging by her reaction, she wasn’t expecting it.

“I can’t believe you bought them for me!”

“Well, you liked them so much.”

“I do. I just can’t believe it. Thank you very much, darling.”

Tom’s gift to Elsa is a necklace. It has no real stones or gems in it. He can’t afford something like that, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

Chris gets a baseball cap from Elsa. Tom got him a set of leather bracelets. He knows the gifts he got are cheap, but it’s what he can afford at the moment. But Chris and Elsa don’t care about the gifts. They’re just happy he’s okay, which always seems to be enough for them.

Last are Tom’s gifts. If Tom has come to any conclusions about Chris and Elsa’s behaviour towards him, it’s that they love to spoil him. They love to see him happy and content. Whether it’s new books or a trip to see a movie, they like to show their affection by giving him things. Things to fill up the space of his room to make it his.

The first present he opens is a box. Inside it is a scarf which he pulls out and holds it close to his chest. It’s soft and thick, something that will keep him warm on his commute to work.

The second is Margaret Atwood’s _Oryx and Crake_ and inside it a gift card to Chapters.

The third is a picture. It’s just the three of them: Chris, Tom, Elsa in their backyard. Elsa had set up a camera with a timer. They took it during the summer.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you very much. I love it.”

“There’s one more,” Elsa says.

Tom digs further into the box and pulls out a second picture in an identical frame. It’s the same setup but with them each holding one of the kids.

“It’s lovely,” he says. While he really loves the one with all of them, he has a special love for when it’s just the three of them. It makes him feel special and warm on the inside.

They spend the rest of the day on the lazy side. There’s food in the slow cooker for dinner they can make and freshly made treats to snack on. Christmas movies and music are playing on the TV all day. Tom takes the time to answer further questions about his trip home and his family. They’re happy he had a good time and that it wasn’t too much for him. He doesn’t find their concern of his wellbeing overwhelming. It’s nice to have someone care about him for once.

After the kids are put to bed, Tom retires to the living room. He picks up a pack of matches and goes around the room, lighting festive candles that smell of vanilla. Then he turns off the lights and turns on a lamp near one of the couches. Picking up his new book, he lays down on the couch with the lamp illuminating the words for him. The TV is set on one of those Christmas music stations. Right now they’re playing something from the Carpenters’ Christmas CD.

He’s deep into his book when Elsa comes in carrying two glasses of wine. She hands him one once he sits up. Then she sits down beside him, propping her feet up on the ottoman.

“It’s snowing,” she says.

“Is it?” Tom looks over his shoulder at the nearest window and does see the few illuminated snowflakes hit the windowpanes. “It’s beautiful.”

He takes a sip of the wine, finding it very much agreeable as Elsa sets her head on his shoulder. Chris joins them only a little while later, sitting on the other side of Tom. He takes Tom’s hand in his, the one not holding the wine glass.

As the soft voice of Linda Carpenter wash over them, Tom relaxes between them, feeling superbly sated. He’s finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't that adorable???
> 
> But yeah, obviously I will be back with two one shots I promised to write. One in the POV of Zachary Levi because I can't leave that poor guy hanging. And the other in the POV of Liam Hemsworth, because I can't leave that thread loose. But don't worry. Tom, Chris, and Elsa will be featured in those stories. 
> 
> I don't know when I'll get those stories up. The Zach one will be first. It'll take place shortly after this story, that's for sure. But I need to get back to other stories and school.
> 
> Thank you for all your support for my first AO3 fanfic! It was truly enjoyable and I know for certain there will be more in the future.
> 
> Have a good one!

**Author's Note:**

> One final note: I have no idea how often updates will be. I only have a few chapters planned out and have no idea how this story is going to turn out. As I said before, I'm doing this for fun.


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